


A Marriage of Convenience - Time of Growth

by Dorothea_Greengrass



Series: A Marriage of Convenience [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drama, F/M, Mystery, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-10-27 06:28:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 66,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20755835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorothea_Greengrass/pseuds/Dorothea_Greengrass
Summary: Five years into his marriage Harry has found contentment - or maybe even more? He and Daphne have everything they have hoped for.However, there are forces at work who have their own agenda with the Potters. Ginny still wants Harry back. After five years of forced inactivity their foe has not given up on his plans.Oblivious to the threats around them, Harry and Daphne are making their biggest dream come true. Then tragedy strikes.While no Archive warnings apply, be prepared for minor and OC character deaths.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Everything belongs to J.K.R. 
> 
> Many thanks to Shygui, a fantastic editor, friend and co-author. The story wouldn't be what it is without him.

_ **Salem, May 2003** _

Five years!

Had it really been five damned years since she'd forced him to return home, to give up his dream to revenge Father and the Dark Lord?

His eyes flicked to the portrait at the place of honour over the fireplace. She sat upright in a throne-like chair, looking as in her lifetime in the black mourning robes she had worn since the day Father died on that field of honour, and each piece of her mouse coloured hair tucked away in a stern bun at the nape of her neck.

Her beady eyes stared at him, cold and malevolent, but without any sign of animation. The magical artist who'd painted her portrait had done a wonderful job in capturing the essence of her vileness; her portrait was terrifying, even without the animation ritual having been performed yet.

That would happen any minute now.

The door to the drawing room opened. The voices of the many mourners in the elegant drawing room died down and gave place to an expectant silence.

A young boy at the edge of manhood came into the room. He wore dark robes that emphasised the lightness of his colouring: gleaming blonde hair fell down to both sides of an angelic face in graceful waves, a skin like milk and honey, and eyes as blue as a spring sky. He carried a velvet cushion in both hands with a vial of blood on it.

He was followed by a man at least thrice as old, and as dark and decrepit looking as the youth was beautiful: the _maestro _himself. What was it about old artists and their penchant for young, handsome boys?

The crowd of dark, yet expensively clad mourning guests parted in front of the miniature procession like waves in front of the bow of a ship. He almost expected them to bow and curtsey before her blood like they had been presented to royalty. Mother would have loved that, no doubt.

They had put Mother to rest earlier that morning, next to Father, and then, as custom dictated, he'd invited the curious freeloaders to refreshments in the aristocratic house on the ancient, chestnut-lined street. He wouldn't put it past the old hag to come out of her grave and haunt him for the rest of his life if he neglected to observe the social customs on her funeral to a tee. He shuddered. May Merlin prevent him from receiving the gift of that personal hell on earth!

The small procession stopped in front of the portrait. The _maestro _planted himself in front of the portrait, his back straight, his chin held high and his jaw set in a strong line. What a theatrical git.

The youth knelt down on one knee and offered the cushion with the vial of blood on it to the _maestro _as if it were a sacrificial offering.

He bit his lips and suppressed another shudder. Her blood, her cursed, evil blood. He clenched his hands at his sides; the urge to raise his wand and Vanish the vial before the ritual could be performed on her portrait became overwhelming.

The _maestro _pulled his wand out of the sleeve of his elegant robes and pointed it towards the ceiling of the room. A thick, dark mist emitted from the tip of his wand, whirled around him, and soon shrouded him, the youth and the portrait from the other occupants of the room. No sound could be heard.

Impossible to tell what was going on behind that mist. Indeed, what a theatrical git. The most important point was conserving the blood with a special potion every Potions Master studied in their first semester, and then infusing the blood into the painting with a charm that was the most guarded secret of the Guild of the Magical Artists. The potion had been ridiculously easy to learn, and had earned him outstanding grades. Not that he'd ever have to work for his living -.

The mist dissipated. The _maestro _and the youth now stood at both sides of the portrait.

Mother still sat upright in her throne-like chair, but her eyes were shut, and her chest moved in deep, rhythmic breaths, a sure sign that the animation ritual had worked.

What a pity.

Applause broke out in the room. The _maestro _bowed towards the audience, his face now graced by an almost unnoticeable smile, and took the tribute as his due.

He and the youth left immediately after that, and the other guests took that as their sign to bide their farewell, too. Not even fifteen minutes later the house elves closed the front door after the last guest.

He let out a deep breath. Alone, finally!

'Seedy!'

His personal elf appeared with a soft _Plop. _His arm still hung from his shoulder in an awkward angle, the Blasting Hex he had cast on the elf in Paris five years ago must have shattered the joint, and it never properly healed. How amusing.

'What can Seedy do for master?'

'Take off the portrait of my mother, wrap it into thick canvas, put it in a trunk and store the trunk in the furthermost corner of the family vault.'

Seedy bowed and clicked the fingers of his good hand. The next moment he was gone, and so was the portrait of the old hag.

He let out another deep breath, walked to the small table that held the bar, and poured himself a generous amount of Firewhisky. He downed the shot in a single gulp, it burnt down his throat and gathered in his stomach, a pool of liquid fire. The warmth spread and the sensation indicated that he was still alive after the five gruelling years he had spent indulging the old hag's every whim.

But that time had come to an end today. He was free, free to pursue the noble goal he had sworn his life to at Father's coffin.

''Sleazy!'

Another elf popped up in front of him.

'Master?'

'Go and get me a Portkey to England. Book a room at _The Leaky Cauldron _for at least two weeks, then pack my things. All of them. I won't return for a long time. Shut down the house and keep yourself available. I'll call you and Seedy as soon as I've found adequate accommodations in England.'

The elf bowed and popped away.

He poured himself another Firewhisky, turned to the window, and looked out onto the tree-lined street, but his eyes saw nothing. Warmth spread inside him.

His time had come. The days of Potter and his whore were numbered.

_t.b.c._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been beta-ed by Shygui, up to a point I consider him a co-author because he contributed so much. Unfortunately, AO3 has changed the rules for adding co- authors, so I can't name him as one anymore.

_ **New York, July 2003** _

Ginny looked around in the foyer of the elegant hotel in the magical part of New York. Two hundred members of the international magical high society, and they made a ruckus like lions at the feed. She curled the corners of her mouth and twirled the stem of her cocktail glass in her hand.

From the corner of her eyes she checked her appearance in one of the many mirrors that adorned the spacious room. She looked as beautiful as never before in her life. Her dark green robes of finest Acrumantula silk and the emeralds in her ears set off her creamy complexion and her fiery red hair. She'd placed herself under one of the crystal chandeliers that adorned the room. The crystals swayed slightly in a soft draught, their melodious tingling accompanied the many voices in the room, and their reflexions strew bright lights into her hair. She was hard to overlook, and many eyes turned towards her, the male ones with undisguised admiration and desire, the female ones with hardly suppressed distrust for a predator of their species.

They were well advised to be wary of her. She'd come alone tonight, and she'd come to hunt.

Her union with Elias had proved to be just about as profitable as she had hoped: he had showered her with presents. The emeralds in her ears had been his reaction to the rocks Harry had given Greengrass at that first Christmas after their wedding - Merlin, that had been almost five years ago - and he'd made a habit of giving her more jewelry whenever he felt especially affectionate.

He'd been a very affectionate husband, and he'd been devastated when she divorced him, "irreconcilable differences", her lawyer had called it. Elias' affection for her had cooled down considerably after he had signed their divorce agreement and he had to pay the compensation their lawyers had agreed on.

Her lips curved in a soft smile. Dear, old Elias! He'd been more than satisfying in other areas, it was too bad that he couldn't see past the other stuff and just enjoy the physical; she really missed him.

The compensation she'd got from him had been the foundation of her wealth, together with her climbing earnings as one of the superstars in the American Quidditch League, and her now significant income as a much sought after magical model.

Her second husband, Zach Zaccheaus, had proved to be not quite as profitable, yet still profitable enough. She'd received the divorce papers a month ago. And so now it was time to look for a new husband.

A small comotion near the entrance caught her attention, and an excited murmur went through the elegant foyer. It seemed as if another VIP had just arrived. Of course it was beneath her to crane her neck like many of the women in the room did. She was Ginny Weasley, an A-list celebrity in her own right. People turned their heads after her, not the other way round.

She took a sip of her exotic cocktail and watched the scene at the entrance from under her eyelashes.

She didn't have to wait long. The wall of curious guests in front of her parted, and she got a good look at the new arrival.

The Ambassador of Magical Britain led a young man to the bar. His broad shoulders filled out simple, yet elegant black robes of Acrumantula silk that made every other man in the room look slightly underdressed, and made his vibrant emerald green eyes under an unruly mop of hair as black as his robes stand out in his handsome face.

Her breath caught, and an electric jolt went through her body. Harry! What was he doing in New York?

He took a glass of sparkling water from the bartender and turned his back to the bar to resume his chat with the ambassador. He looked poised and at ease, nothing in his demeanour reminded of the socially awkward youth she remembered from their Hogwarts days. He'd tilted his head and listened to the much older man by his side with a polite smile on his face.

Her abdomen tightened almost painful, and she discreetly moistened her lips. Like when she'd seen him the first time after his treatment on that Christmas Day so long ago, his changed appearance had caught her by surprise. On the average scale from zero to ten he was at least a twelve.

She squared her shoulders and put her glass on a bar table next to her. Then she ambled across the room, towards the bar. As expected, all heads near her turned around to her. She was a model, she knew how to walk through a room and draw attention to herself.

The attention of the other guests did not go by unnoticed by Harry, and he looked into her direction. He froze, and the polite smile vanished from his face for a split second. The next moment however, he was in control of himself. The polite smile re-appeared, though his eyes became guarded.

She halted her step, as if she'd just seen him, and her face lit up in a delighted smile.

'Harry!'

She rushed towards him, grabbed him by his upper arms, and gave him a small kiss in the air beside each of his cheeks, the socially acceptable greeting of good friends. The whiff of an expensive light cologne reached her nostrils. She took in his appearance in one swift glance. Up close he looked even better than she remembered from that Christmas Day.

He hadn't leaned into her half-hug when she greeted him. A wise move on his part; there was no need to give away their relationship in a crowded room, though no doubt the rumour mills would be running wild soon enough about the familiar greeting between Britain's Chosen One and one of America's top female Quidditch stars.

'Ginny; what an unexpected surprise.' He gave her a polite kiss on the knuckles, but didn't kiss her cheek. His voice sounded calm and didn't let on any of the delight she knew he felt because of their surprise encounter.

'You know each other?' The ambassador looked from Harry to Ginny, his eyebrows raised.

'We were in the same house at Hogwarts, though Ms Weasley was a year below me,' Harry said, and made the necessary introductions.

They made some small talk. Morgana must have heard her silent plea, it didn't take long until the ambassador excused himself and left them to talk to other guests at the cocktail reception. Harry's eyes followed him, an unfathomable expression on his face.

'Finally alone,' she said, and gave him an impish flutter of her eyelids.

The smile she got from him in response was rather thin-lipped, and he didn't answer. Oh, well, he was probably thinking about the way he'd left her standing in the orchard when they'd seen each other the last time and felt guilty about it.

She linked arms with Harry and drew him to one of the unoccupied bar tables in the middle of the room, aware that many eyes were turned to them. 'I still can't believe you are in New York. What brings you here?'

'Business,' he said, and took a sip of his water, a slight line between his eyebrows. 'I'm on an introductory tour of the overseas dependances of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products. I have finished my studies in May, and Cyrus thought it a good idea for me to take over his regular visits to Tokyo and New York.'

'How exciting! Is Daphne with you?' She held her breath and crossed her fingers.

Harry shook his head. 'She's got to hold fort in London, since Cyrus is visiting Paris and Rome.'

Perfect; his meddling mousey wife was the last thing she needed right now. Though she wasn't that mousey anymore; she'd almost suffered a heart attack when she'd seen her on that Christmas Day five years ago. It was amazing how much a decent haircut, makeup and stylish clothes had changed the plain girl. She was nowhere close to being as beautiful as herself, but her looks complimented Harry's, she made the perfect background for him, and together they were a striking couple. She'd seen more cutesy photos of these two than she'd ever cared for; Hermione had taken it upon herself to keep her up to date with current events regarding her friends in England. It seemed to be impossible to get a photo of Harry without Greengrass cuddled close to him.

Well, the blonde mouse should cuddle with Harry for as long as she could, in the long run she wouldn't stand a chance against her. Merlin, what a wet washcloth that girl was. She'd all but shrunk into herself when she had threatened her not to become too cosy with Harry. For a Slytherin, she was ridiculously easy to manipulate. Although she hadn't counted on her threat making Greengrass loosen her bowels, so Harry had to take her home. Pity, she had already made plans to persuade Harry to an impromptu Quidditch match on Boxing Day, and make the next attempt on him. Oh well, it never came to that, and unfortunately she hadn't been able to return to England for the next couple of years. But now he was here, and even better: he was alone.

She smiled up at him. 'What a pity. I would have loved to get to know her better.'

A faint smile played around his lips. 'She'll be as disappointed to have missed this opportunity as you are.'

Her eyes narrowed. Was he taunting her? No, that was impossible, Harry didn't have it in him to be like that.

She tilted her head to the side and let her long mane flow over one shoulder. 'How long will you stay in New York?'

'My plane is scheduled to leave tomorrow at seven p.m.'

'Your plane? You travel like a Muggle?' She raised her eyebrows. What sort of an idiotic idea was that?

Harry gave her a close-lipped smile. 'You forget that Crystal Fairy Beauty Products is a mostly Muggle company. I have to keep a Muggle cover when I'm dealing with the directors of the Muggle parts, thus the Muggle travel.'

'Well, if it suits you to waste your time,' she said, and shrugged her shoulders. Should she put a hand on his arm and tell him they should make the best of their limited time together? No, better not. Harry had turned down her offer to become his mistress twice, out of his damned honourability, there was no way that she was going to give him the opportunity to go three for three. This time, he had to make the first step.

The cocktail party had come to a close while they talked, and the guests filed out of the room to attend to their other appointments for this evening. She cast him a surreptitious look from under her eyelashes.

His eyes scanned the room; he was holding to his glass of water and made no effort to continue their conversation.

A small smile appeared on her lips. This was so typical Harry, probably he was racking his brain for a way to ask her out for dinner without sounding too eager. Maybe she should give him a little encouragement.

She put a hand on Harry's forearm. It felt supple and strong through the thin layers of silk and his suit jacket, and she almost let out a purr. He was just as she liked her men. 'Do you have another appointment today? What about having dinner together and catching up? We haven't seen each other in years.'

He looked down at her, his bland face didn't let on what he thought.

Damn, when had he learned to become that inscrutable? Harry Potter had always been one of the most easily to read boys at Hogwarts; his vivid eyes that mirrored each of his emotions had been a dead give away.

He came to a decision. 'Well, I have to have dinner, haven't I?'

'Brilliant,' she said, and gave him a broad smile, though the muscles of her neck stiffened. That had been a less than enthusiastic response to her suggestion. Who did he think he was? It was a privilege to be seen in her company; many men would give an arm and a leg for that.

However, she still had plans with him, and it wouldn't do to let him see her annoyance. Again, she linked arms with him and pulled him with her into the direction of the main restaurant of the hotel.

'Come on, I have a room booked here; I'm sure they'll give us a table on short notice. Where are you staying, by the way?'

He knitted his brow in a slight frown. 'The company has booked a suite for me at a Muggle hotel.'

Her eyebrows quirked up. 'A whole suite? I'm impressed. But why a Muggle hotel?'

Harry shrugged. 'It's practical, I guess, with all the meetings I had these last couple of days. Sometimes, I needed a private place to talk, so an additional living room was a necessity. Most of the company's holdings are Muggle, so it's easier for me to stay in the Muggle world.'

They got a table in a secluded corner of the elegant restaurant and made their orders. While they waited for their drinks to be served, Ginny excused herself that she needed to go to the restroom.

She locked herself into the small cubicle, pulled her wand out of her purse and cast her Patronus. 'Go to Madlyn Mitchell and tell her I'm having dinner with Harry Potter at the restaurant of the Palace Hotel; I need her to come over and take some photos, but he must not notice her.'

The silvery boa constrictor nodded, flicked her tongue and slithered away.

Ginny returned to the restaurant and sat down opposite of Harry once again. The waiter had meanwhile served their drinks, and she took a sip of her chilled white wine. Harry still stuck to water.

'What have you been doing all these years? I always meant to go home for Christmas, but nothing ever came of my plans,' she said.

He quirked an eyebrow at her over the rim of his glass. 'How's that?'

She put on a wistful expression. 'Mum and Dad visited us the year after I married Elias. We planned on another visit to England the following year, but separated before that. I married again the summer after that, and Zach insisted on celebrating our first Christmas with his family here. We seperated after a little more over a year since we got married. Mum was furious at me that my second marriage failed, so you can understand that I wasn't keen to visit _The Burrow.'_

Harry took a sip of his water. Was he touched by her pity story? She couldn't tell, his face didn't let on.

'Very understandable. Although I had the impression she was not so much furious at you, but concerned that yet another of your relationships failed after a short time,' he said.

She lowered her head. 'Yes, I've made some bad decisions over the last couple of years.' She bit her lips, as if to fight back tears, and cast him a look from under her eyelashes. Did he fall for it?

Harry shifted in his seat and averted his eyes. 'I'm sorry to hear that.'

Was there a slight trace of pain in his voice? She bit on the inside of her cheeks to suppress a triumphant smile. Five years ago, she'd have used this as an opening to throw herself at him once more and try to become his mistress. From there, she'd have worked to undermine his marriage until Greengrass was so fed up with him that she'd agree to divorce him.

However, she'd become older and more experienced. His stubborn refusal to take her as his mistress, even though he felt nothing for Greengrass, had shown her that the direct approach didn't work. Well, after five years in a marriage that had been forced on him he should be more than ready for a little adventure. She only had to give him the right opening.

She looked at him with a trembling smile. 'There's no use crying over spilt milk, Harry. I've made my choices and have to live with them.'

There, that was just the right amount of sorrow mixed with stiff upper lip not to make him uncomfortable. As a bonus, the waiter used that moment to serve the first course, which should give him time to get over a moment he'd find awkward.

She picked up her spoon. 'Enough about me. Tell me, what have you done during all these years since the last time we saw each other?' That was always a good beginning, men loved to talk about themselves.

He followed her example and dipped his spoon into his soup. 'Well, you know that Cyrus wants me to become his successor. Because of that, I enrolled at Canterbury Magical University in September after the Battle of Hogwarts to study Magical Economics. I had my last exams this May and started working for Crystal Fairy Beauty Products immediately after.'

'I remember how put out you were when he first demanded of you to change your plans. It can't have been easy for you to go through five years of studies of an object you detested, when everything you ever wanted was becoming an Auror.' She almost patted herself on the shoulder; her voice had just the right mixture of sympathy and understanding.

Harry wiped his mouth and took a sip of water. The glass still in his hand, he said, 'I would never have thought of choosing this path, but as soon as I realised what the estate of Grandfather Fleamont entailed, I had to admit it was the only sensible course of action. After all, I can't rely on Cyrus forever to manage my estate for me.' He put the glass back onto the table and picked up his spoon again.

'Still, it had had to be hard on you.'

'Well, it wasn't a bed of roses, but I did alright.' He turned his attention to his meal.

Damn, did she have to pry everything out of him? 'A little bird told me you've been rewarded with a hereditary seat on the Wizengamot two years ago? Congratulations; that's a rare honour.'

He had finished his first course and wiped his mouth. 'Yeah, so I've been told.'

She gritted her teeth. She had forgot how hard it was to make Harry talk about himself; he was different than other men in that regard. So far, he'd told her nothing she hadn't read about him in _Witch Weekly_.

A movement at the table next to her caught her attention. A young woman sat down at a table for two. From her place she had a good view at Harry and her, and she gave Ginny a surreptitious wink.

Ginny replied with an imperceptible bow of her head.

The young woman pulled a compact out of her purse and opened it.

That was her cue. She edged forward on her seat, bent towards Harry and put her hand on his that laid outstretched on the tablecloth. 'Tell me more about your duties on the Wizengamot. Though I can't imagine how you of all people get along with those stuffed shirts. You must be bored out of your mind during each meeting.'

His eyebrows furrowed, his gaze flicked to her hand on his, and then he pulled his hand away.

Damn him! Had Madlyn been fast enough?

'Well, I manage. Of course, there are a lot of dull things, long speeches, taxes and such stuff. I'm sure you'd be bored to tears within five minutes and fast asleep after another five if I told you about my role in that.' He gave her his trademark lopsided grin, the first time today she saw the real Harry Potter and not the well-trained Greengrass puppet.

She laughed. 'I'm not surprised. I never imagined that you of all people would like to hobnob with the stiff farts on the Wizengamot.'

'No, why should you?' he replied and took another sip of his water.

Silence settled between them, and she racked her brain what else to talk about. Quidditch would be fail-safe, but that would lead the conversation back to her, and she wanted to hear about him.

The waiter came to her rescue and served the second course. Another five minutes were spent with smalltalk about the delicious food - as if she were a distant acquaintance and not the love of his life. That topic was exhausted much too soon, and again she was at a loss what to talk about with him.

Harry ate his dinner; he seemed to be far away with his thoughts.

'You are not very talkative,' she said.

His eyes focussed back on her, and she gave him a mock-pout.

'Sorry, but I had a hard week. A couple of days ago I was in Tokyo, and from there I flew to New York. The jet lag is killing me. On top of that it's the first time I had to lead the quarterly meetings, and of course everyone was waiting for me to make mistakes,' he said.

She suppressed a triumphant smile. It was about time he was beginning to share something personal. Instead, she put on a sympathetic expression. 'It's hard to believe that people will look critically at The-Man-Who-Conquered.'

He replied to that with a small snort. 'You forget I had to deal with Muggles, Ginny. They don't know a thing about me. To them, I'm the heir of Fleamont Potter, the venerated founder of the company. In their eyes I'm nothing but a spoilt brat, fresh from university, and still wet behind the ears. I yet have to earn my place and their acceptance. Daphne said -.' He broke off, bit his lips, and turned his attention back on his meal.

Ah, now they were coming to the interesting part. Obviously it made him uncomfortable to talk about his wife.

'How are things between you and Daphne, Harry?'

He didn't look up. 'Fine.'

That was brilliant. As if she didn't knew his life was crap whenever he said he was fine. He'd fall into her lap like a ripe apple before the evening was much older.

As soon as he had finished the meal, Harry signalled the waiter and asked for the bill. She suppressed a triumphant smile. This was like in old times, he couldn't wait to be alone with her.

She leaned over the table and gave him a seductive smile. 'Shall we go to the bar to enjoy a private conversation?'

'Sorry, but no, Ginny.'

She blinked. What?

He gave her a small smile. 'I'm sorry, Ginny. I'd love to talk to you, but I'm completely knackered. I have to be up early to make a call to headquarters in London, and after that I have another important appointment before I'll have to catch my plane tomorrow. Another time, maybe.'

He got up, took her hand and gave her a formal kiss on the knuckles. 'Excuse me, Ginny, but I really have to go. It was nice talking to you.'

With that he turned around and left the restaurant.

She stared after him. How did he dare? Oh well, he'd been tired and stressed. Soon he'd be used to the demands of his new job, and then he'd be more relaxed. He'd talked about quarterly meetings he had to attend, so all she had to do was find out when he'd be in New York the next time and arrange to run into him by accident. She had become quite apt in this kind of information gathering over the last five years.

Also, he hadn't talked about his wife, just the contrary, he had avoided that topic like Dragon Pox. If that wasn't a sure sign that his marriage was catastrophic, she'd eat her new _Nimbus 3001_ from a silver plate without sauce. Harry had always avoided to talk about the bad things in his life. Oh yes, he was more than ready to break out of his unhappy marriage, but she knew Harry, it would be a damn hard piece of work to make him realise that.

She got up from the table and went to her room.

'Good evening, Ginny. How was the reception?'

She startled. She hadn't expected him to be in her room tonight. A genuine smile appeared on her face, and she rushed over to him to kiss him.

'No success yet,' she said, and sat down in his lap. 'I got distracted, but in a good way.'

His brows rose up. 'Explain, love.'

She didn't look at him, and her hand played with the lapel of his robes. 'I met Harry at the cocktail party. We had dinner together.'

He stiffened and didn't answer at once.

'I think he's miserable, and probably more than ready to leave Greengrass, though it will take some work to get him there. He'll be in New York regularly from now on. I think that's a chance I shouldn't pass.'

He still didn't answer.

'Don't you agree?' She raised her eyes at him.

He had his lips pressed in a hard, thin line.

She suppressed a sigh. She should have known that; Harry had always been a sensitive topic between them.

He put his arms around her and pulled her close. 'I've been thinking, love. You've made a lot of gold during the last five years, and so have I. We are both at the top of our professions, and most likely we can make a huge fortune before another five years are out. Don't you think it's time to quit our plan, get married and start the family we dreamt of? We have more than enough gold to last us a lifetime.' He nuzzled his face in the crook of her neck.

The muscles in her neck tensed. How could he think of suggesting this right now, when she had the first chance in years to get back at Harry? He knew what the Golden Git had done to her, and he had been there when she swore revenge. Harry owed her, and he knew it. He couldn't expect her to step back and become his meek Pureblood wife, just because he thought the time was right.

His ministrations became more pronounced. His hands wandered across her body in a way that never failed to make her weak in the knees.

She grinded her teeth. That was low, she wouldn't allow him to seduce her to get his way with her. She shrugged him off and slid from his lap. 'Sorry, love, but I have a headache.'

He also got up. A strange expression flickered across his face. Was it anger? Impossible, he had too much self-control for that.

She stepped towards him and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. 'See you tomorrow, love.'

He didn't look at her. 'Yeah, see you then.'

_t.b.c._


	3. Chapter 3

_ **New York, July 2003** _

Harry strode through the hotel lobby towards the entrance. As soon as he had passed through the revolving doors and out onto the magical part of Broadway, he shrugged out of his robes, slid his wand out of its holster and shrunk the robes with a silent spell until they were small enough to fit into the pocket of the trousers of his grey Muggle summer suit.

He raised his hand, rubbed his face, and a tired sigh escaped his lips. The last couple of days had been strenuous; he had spent most of his awake time in meetings where he had to watch his step so as not to make a blunder. His partners on the other side of the table watched eagle eyed and waited for any sign of his incompetence. In spite of his youth and inexperience he had done well, at least he thought so; Cyrus had seemed to be pleased when he'd called him at his hotel in Rome about his last meeting before he had to meet the ambassador, who had dragged him to that damned cocktail party.

It had been one of those social events he just had to suffer through, he'd got used to that after five years of living among the magical and Muggle upper class. The ambassador was from a prominent neutral Pureblood family that had a hereditary seat on the Wizengamot, and he needed their vote for the new faction in the Wizengamot he had been forming with Cyrus, Kingsley and Neville's help ever since the Wizengamot granted him a hereditary seat two years ago. He'd made good headway with the man - until Ginny had butted into their conversation.

Merlin damn her bad timing; the ambassador had excused himself soon afterwards, and left the party with friends while Ginny still was hogging him, and there was no polite way to get away from her without raising attention. He still hadn't Daphne's skill to extricate himself from unwanted conversations with grace.

He stepped into the entrance hall of Magical New York City Hall, which was integrated in a side wing of New York City Hall, and the connection between the magical and the Muggle parts of the city, and hailed a cab as soon as he was on the Muggle part of Broadway.

He leaned back in the seat, his brows furrowed. He had no eyes for the spectacle of New York at night while the cab crept towards his hotel. The unexpected meeting with Ginny had shaken him up more than he liked to admit, even to himself.

At first, when she suggested to have dinner together, he'd been afraid she'd attempt to make another move on him. Even though Ginny hadn't been in England for five years, she'd been omnipresent in _The Daily Prophet _and _Witch Weekly, _and had gained a reputation of a _femme fatale _ever since her latest divorce. The memory of their last encounter in the garden of _The Burrow _also made him wary of her intentions.

Almost five years had passed since then, he'd become older and more cynical, and over the last years he'd wondered if Ginny's tears and her indignation about his suspicion of her relationship with her agent had been an act to throw him off the scent. Accusing him to have slept with Hermione, of all people, had been a master stroke on Ginny's part, he'd fallen for the bait hook, line and sinker.

Not that he spent his nights sleepless about that question. He suppressed a snort. He'd better things to do when he was in his bed and not sleeping, Daphne saw to that.

A small smile flickered across his face. Daphne had become the most important person in his life, and Ginny had faded into the background of history. Whatever she had done or not hadn't the power to hurt him anymore.

However, it had been impossible for him to snub her; the Potters and the Weasleys were too close for that, not to mention that he still thought of her as a friend, although a distant one, and had fond memories of their time together.

Well, at least his fears had turned to be unfounded. She'd kept her distance and behaved like the old friends they were, even though it was plain to see that she still suffered from the repercussions of their forced break up.

Without Cyrus' meddling, Ginny never would have left England, and they would most likely be married by now.

But would they have been happy? That was debatable. Damn, Arthur had been spot on; Ginny was rather superficial and had no interest at all in the things that drove him these days. If she'd once read the headlines of _The Daily Prophet _and the international newspapers during the last two years, she would have known he did more than just sit through the Wizengamot meetings, as she had implied he did, and wouldn't have asked him these silly questions.

He'd become the driving force of a new party at the Wizengamot that wanted to reform their society at a sensible pace, without overthrowing everything magical people had grown up with and held dear. They wanted to persuade the wizarding world that change was necessary, not patronise it, as Dumbledore had done, and like many of the Light Faction still did today. That meant advertising their ideas whenever possible, and he was their poster boy, a role he had taken on willingly. Thanks to Daphne's coaching he'd learned how to carry himself with confidence whenever he had to make a public appearance, not to mention that she was what Kingsley called their secret weapon. The Pureblood old farts were putty in her hands as soon as she smiled at them. Together, they were an unstoppable team.

No, Ginny would have been the wrong life partner for him, given what he'd found out during these last five years. The feelings they'd had for each other as young adults most likely wouldn't have survived the demands the last five years had made on him, and especially not the time since he'd taken a seat on the Wizengamot, and they'd be utterly miserable by now. The decision to stay with Daphne when she'd offered him divorce a few weeks after their wedding was most likely the smartest decision he'd ever made.

Besides the decision to go for the Horcruxes instead of the Hollows, it had also been the only carefully considered decision of his life. Both had turned out brilliant. He snorted. Another reminder that he should think before rushing in. As if five years of living with a former Slytherin had not yet cured him of that bad habit and brought out his Slytherin traits.

The cab reached the hotel, he paid the driver, and strolled through the lobby towards the elevator, his brows still furrowed in thought. As soon as he'd reached his suite, he shrugged out of his jacket and loosened his tie, flung both over the back of the chair in front of him, and went to the small bar in the elegant living room. He poured himself a scotch and slumped down on the comfortable sofa. His eyes stared at the nightly skyline of New York in front of the floor to ceiling windows of his suite, but his brain didn't register the stunning view.

He sighed. Even after all these years Ginny, it seemed, had yet to deal with the repercussions of Cyrus' meddling in their lives. While nowadays he had to agree that his interference had been for the best - though he'd never admit that into Cyrus' face - that probably couldn't be said for Ginny. Cyrus interference had her thrown into a spin, and it seemed she'd never regained her footing, and had made some bad choices in her life because of that.

He swirled the scotch in the glass in his hand. He'd never wanted that to happen to her, he'd wanted to see her happy. His stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch. It hadn't been easy to see the sadness in her eyes, however, he refused to feel responsible for that. It took two to make a marriage work, and it also took two to make a marriage fail, this much he'd learned over the last five years. Instead of hanging on to the past and dreaming about what might have been, Ginny would be well advised to get a grip on herself and ask herself where she might have gone wrong.

Maybe he should've told her just that, but when he saw the sadness in her eyes, he hadn't had the heart for it. A rueful smile appeared on his face. "Chickened out" was the more accurate word for his decision to keep his mouth shut.

He stopped swirling the glass in his hand, took a sip, and looked at his wristwatch. Pity, it was already too late to call Daphne; it was in the middle of the night in London, and she'd be sound asleep. He'd call her at headquarters first thing when he woke up in the morning.

He emptied his glass, rose, stretched and yawned, and went over to the bedroom to get his much needed and well deserved rest.

* * *

A sunbeam that found its way through a slit in the drawn curtains before his bedroom window woke him up the next morning. He sneezed, sat up in the bed, and looked at the clock on the nightstand. Past nine a.m. already; he'd slept longer than he'd intended; apparently he'd been even more knackered than he'd thought. Oh well, contrary to what he'd told Ginny he didn't have any meetings today. It had been a necessary little white lie to keep her away. He'd scheduled everything that way, so he'd have a day for himself and could do some shopping for his wife in New York.

He smiled; their fifth wedding anniversary was approaching, and he'd planned on a surprise for Daphne. The poor girl had never got a proper wedding present from him, had had a nightmare of a honeymoon, and hadn't complained about it once. It was about time for him to make up for that, show her how much he appreciated that she was always there for him and showed him how much she cared for him.

Harry leaned over, picked up his Blackberry from the nightstand where he had put it the previous night before he went to bed, and pressed the familiar buttons for Daphne's mobile.

She answered almost immediately. 'Harry!'

'Good morning, gorgeous,' he said with a broad grin.

'I didn't count on you calling this early. Don't you have any meetings today?' There was a smile in her voice.

'Nope, I'm free until I have to catch my plane this evening. I took great pains to schedule my meetings that way; I wanted to see a little more of New York than conference rooms only. Don't tell Cyrus, he'd have kittens.'

She laughed. 'Father wouldn't mind, I'm sure. He was full of praise about you when he called me this morning.'

'You're taking the mickey, aren't you? Cyrus "Pokerface" Greengrass and full of praise; that's a good one, Daph.'

'Well, actually he said you exceeded his expectations.'

Harry let out a low whistle. 'I take everything back. That's high praise, indeed.'

They both laughed. Daphne was the first to sober.

'You know that he loves you like a son and is proud of you, Harry.'

'Yeah.' He sighed. 'Let's not go there, darling. You know I'm happy for you that you made your peace with your father, after the way he treated you when we got married. But don't expect me ever to become best friends with him. He's my boss, and I respect his expertise, and I'll behave civil towards him because he's your father and you love him, and I don't want you to have to choose between us, but that's about all I can stomach.'

'I know.' Her voice sounded very small, and he didn't have to see her face to know that she'd assumed a stony face, a mask she wore to let nobody see that she was hurt.

'I'm sorry, darling.'

She let out a small sigh. 'There's no need, Harry. Merlin knows Father gave you every reason to hate him.' She took a deep breath, and when she talked again, her voice sounded normal. 'When's your plane scheduled to arrive at Heathrow?'

'About seven a.m. Don't worry to pick me up, I'll Apparate home from there.'

'And break the Statute of Secrecy while doing so.'

He almost could see her rolling her eyes at him, and suppressed a snort.

'Really, Harry, you should know better than that. Ever since Nine-Eleven the Muggles have gone crazy about security. There are cameras and guards everywhere at the airports, and Merlin knows what else. Don't blow your cover, and act like a good Muggle; I'll pick you up and have Kreacher prepare a full English breakfast for when we're home.'

'Sounds lovely. Alright, you'll have it your way.' He chuckled. 'Merlin, had I known what a harridan you'll become, I would've thought twice about accepting Cyrus' offer.'

'Harry James Potter, you are impossible!' She huffed, but there was also amusement in her voice.

'Yeah, but that's exactly the way you want me. Bye, darling, see you tomorrow morning, I miss you.'

'Bye, honey, I miss you too.'

Harry ended the call, but a broad smile stayed on his face while he got ready for the day and had a leisurely breakfast. Afterwards, he checked out of the hotel, looked for a quiet corner and shrunk his luggage to have his hands free for a day in New York. With his trunk in his pocket, he strode to his first destination of the day: Tiffany's. Daphne loved jewelry, and he loved to see her beaming face whenever he gave her a new piece.

It struck him halfway between the hotel and the famous jeweller, and he almost stopped in his tracks. He hadn't told Daphne about Ginny and his dinner with her. His stomach gave a slight quiver. Ginny was the only taboo between Daphne and him; they'd never mentioned her except for that day during their honeymoon when Daphne warned him to be discreet if he wanted to continue seeing Ginny.

To be honest, he had no idea how he should bring up Ginny in any conversation with Daphne. A phone call would've been the worst time ever, anyway, they wouldn't have been able to see each other's faces, which could have led to misunderstandings. No, it was better he'd tell her as soon as he was home.

* * *

The plane arrived on time at Heathrow the next morning, however, the journey to the gate seemed to take at least as much time as the flight. Another felt eternity later he'd claimed his baggage and left customs.

As soon as he passed the gate, a petite blonde whirlwind in a flowered, rather short summer dress hurled herself at him. He let go of the handle of his trolley case and caught his wife in his arms. Her face glowed, and she looked up at him with a wide smile and beaming eyes.

'Harry!'

A warm glow ignited in his heart and spread out in his chest. He pulled her closer, inhaled the spicy fragrance that was so typical Daphne, and kissed her.

She flung her arms around his neck and responded to his kiss with an enthusiasm that matched his.

'I take it that you missed me terribly,' he said when he finally raised his head.

'No more than you obviously missed me,' she replied, and linked arms with him.

He gave her another peck on her pink lips, just for good measure. 'It was weird not having you around, you know. We've done everything together ever since we married, and were hardly separated more than a couple of hours.' He slipped his arm out of hers and put it around her shoulder. 'I really could have used your input during the meetings; I was out of my depth more than once. Besides that, it was damned boring and lonesome without you.'

'I'm happy to hear that.' She slid her arm around his waist and almost purred by his side.

'Wretched woman! I should've known you'd gloat about my misery.'

They laughed and walked out of the terminal towards the parking lot.

Both he and Daphne had got their driver's licence during their first year at university; they shared a lot of courses with the Muggle students, and it would have caused suspicion if a young couple of their means didn't own at least one car. Cyrus almost had had a heart attack when Harry had bought an Audi TT roadster for Daphne and himself to drive to university each morning, but had to admit it was a sensible move to keep their cover in the Muggle world.

Harry loved driving the speedy small car, but after the long night flight with only little sleep he was content to let Daphne take the seat behind the wheel. A little more than one hour later she drove the car into the garage of Grimmauld Place number twelve that was in the converted stables at the rear of the block.

They had moved to Grimmauld Place as soon as they had finished their last exam in May; Cyrus' argument that he wanted to have them near him during their education was no longer valid. They'd both started as executive assistants the day after, a job where they had to work hand in hand with Cyrus, and he would see them each day, anyway.

Together they walked through the long, narrow garden to the sunken patio at the back of the house. From there, a door led into the family room and the kitchen beyond.

It was a beautiful morning, and the breakfast table was already set for them on the patio.

'I'd like to have a shower first,' Harry said, and Daphne nodded. While he walked up to the master bedroom on the second floor, Daphne went into the kitchen to tell Kreacher to wait until Harry was finished. About fifteen minutes later he walked out on the patio. Daphne already sat at the breakfast table and waited for him. He dropped a kiss on her head, sat down beside her, and let his gaze wander over Daphne's lovingly maintained beds of Flutterby bushes, intermingled with Rainbow Roses and lavender.

During the last five years, together they had renovated and furnished the former gloomy Black residence to become a home for their future family. Daphne had taken special delight in remodelling the overgrown garden. He couldn't recount the many hours he had spent shovelling dragon manure on the flower beds under her direction, but the result was worth it. Even Neville had looked at Daphne's garden with respectful envy at their official housewarming party a couple of weeks ago.

Though, Grimmauld Place had already become their secret retreat before that; whenever they felt the need to escape Cyrus' watchful eyes they'd spent their weekends here.

He let out a content sigh. 'Home at last.'

Daphne bent towards him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. 'It was about time, too. The house was awfully quiet without you.'

'What's on the agenda for this weekend?' he asked while she poured him a cup of tea.

She didn't look at him, but bit her lips and took the time to pour herself a cup before she answered. 'Father sent Matty while you were in the shower. He wants to talk to you this morning and asked us to meet him at _The Rectory_after breakfast.'

Harry made a face. 'Well, I should've expected that.' He shrugged, picked up his cutlery, took a bite, chewed and swallowed. 'Anything else?'

A smile crossed her face, and she nodded. 'You'll like this one, I'm sure. Fleur and Bill asked us to dinner tonight. Hermione, Lisa, Ron and Justin will also be there.'

'Brilliant!' His lips curved into a broad smile.

While they ate their breakfast, they talked about inconsequential things. He'd have to tell everything about his meetings in Tokyo and New York as soon as they met Cyrus, anyway, so there was no need to tell it twice. It was nice to sit in the sunshine with Daphne and unwind from the stressful days that were behind him and forget about the ones in front of him.

Harry took the last bite of his eggs, wiped his mouth with his napkin and drained his teacup. Daphne had finished her meal before him. He looked at her. 'Shall we go and meet your father now? I'd like to get it over with, so that we'll have the rest of the weekend to ourselves.'

She nodded, and rose from her chair. Harry followed suit.

'Apparition or by car?' he asked.

'Apparition,' Daphne said, and took his arm. 'I don't want to waste hours on the road we could spend in more pleasant ways.'

He wriggled his eyebrows at her. 'That sounds rather intriguing, Mrs Potter. Do you have something special in mind?'

She grinned up at him. 'You'll have to wait until we get home. Now, get going, or you'll never find out.'

'Your wish is my command, my lady.'

The next moment they stood on the Apparition point of _The Rectory._

They found Cyrus, Isabella and Tori on the terrace at the back of the house. The terrace was the formal counterpart to the secluded patio in front of the breakfast room. It looked over the park and the lake, and was surrounded by beds of rambling roses. Imitations of ancient amphoras with colourful flowers planted in them adorned the corners of the spacious terrace.

'Daphne, Harry!' Isabella's face lit up when she saw them. She rose from her upholstered sunchair and greeted both of them with a warm hug. 'You know, I miss not having you living next door anymore.'

A small pang of pain jolted through Harry's chest. Isabella had always been nice to him and gone out of her way to make him feel welcomed and at home at _The Rectory. _Though a very strict and traditionalist woman, who set great store by good breeding - though not necessarily Pureblood descent - and even greater store by good manners, she cared deeply for her two daughters. Even though Tori needed her constant care more than ever and was her secret favourite, there was no doubt she loved Daphne and missed her. Would Daphne have moved out of the family estate if it weren't for him?

He looked at his wife who bent over Tori's chair, an arm around Tori's frail shoulders. Her health had deteriorated slowly, but steadily ever since Daphne's and his wedding. He'd last seen her about ten days ago, shortly before he had left for Tokyo, and she seemed to have weakened even more within this short time. A cold hand gripped around his heart. How much longer would Tori still be with them?

Daphne turned to Isabella and gave her mother a tight hug. 'You know why we moved to the house on Grimmauld Place, Mother. I always thought you couldn't wait for your first grandchild to run around? Well, _The Coach House _surely is too small for a family.'

Isabella gave her a wistful smile. 'I know, Daphne, and I understand, still, a mother is allowed to miss her daughter.'

They greeted Cyrus, and he didn't waste much time to excuse them from his wife and his younger daughter and lead them to his tiny study. The room hadn't changed at all ever since Harry's first visit there.

Harry held out one of the uncomfortable visitor chairs for his wife, gave Cyrus a challenging look and slipped out his wand to cast Cushioning Charms on both wooden chairs. That had become a tradition whenever he visited Cyrus' study.

From behind his desk Cyrus let out one of his slow, rumbling laughs. 'As long as you cancel the spell before you leave, you can cast as many Cushioning Charms as you want, Harry.'

Daphne sat down and looked from her father to her husband, a broad grin on her face. 'Thank you, honey, it's very comfortable. I wonder why nobody before you thought of casting a Cushioning Charm on these uncomfortable chairs.'

'Maybe because they aren't as practical as I am?' Harry asked, his eyes widened in fake innocence, and sat down beside her.

Cyrus snorted. 'Hardly. I'd rather say they don't have your cheek, son.'

Harry crossed his legs and grinned at him. 'What can I say? Even though I live in a snake pit, I'm still a Gryffindor.'

Cyrus harrumphed to that, however, the look he gave Harry was rather lenient and betrayed his pride of Harry.

Harry lowered his gaze. His stomach knotted itself together, and he rubbed his face with the palm of his hand. Daphne was right, Cyrus was proud of him and loved him like the son he never had. However, he couldn't find it in himself to love the man back, not after what he'd done to him, and not even for Daphne's sake.

'Back to business,' Cyrus announced, and Harry trained his attention on informing Cyrus and Daphne about his meetings, and all the little details he hadn't had the time to talk about at the phone, and after that listened to Cyrus' account of his visits to Paris and Rome.

Their meeting took the rest of the morning. 'You've done much better than I expected, Harry,' Cyrus finally said and got to his feet. 'I think Fleamont and James would be as proud of you today as I am.'

'And as I am,' Daphne said, and gave Harry a kiss on the cheek.

Harry's heart made a salto, and warmth crept into his cheeks. He stiffened; he didn't love Cyrus, damn, he barely tolerated the man for Daphne's sake, so why made him his rare praise that proud?

He took Daphne's hand, bent towards her, and returned the kiss. 'Thank you, darling.'

She gave him a brief glance from under her eyelashes, as if she was waiting for something more, but when he got to his feet and held his hand out to her, she let out a small sigh, took his hand and also got up.

'You'll stay for lunch?' Cyrus asked over his shoulder, already leading the way out of his study.

Daphne gave Harry a questioning look.

'Of course,' he hurried to say. If he couldn't find it in himself to become best buddies with Cyrus, he at least could make sure Daphne had as much time with her family as possible.

He was rewarded with another peck on the cheek from his wife, and a blinding smile that promised more as soon as they were alone.

When they reached the cosy breakfast room, Isabella and Tori were already waiting for them.

They sat down, and Matty served the soup.

'How was your meeting with Tony, Harry?' Isabella asked, and dipped her spoon into her bowl.

Tony was Anthony Brocklehurst, the Ambassador of Magical Britain in the USA, and a distant relative of Isabella.

Harry paused spooning his soup and smiled at his mother in law. 'Splendid. He told me to give you his love, and he took me to a cocktail party.'

'I bet you had the time of your life there,' Tori said with a straight face.

That had everyone laughing. His lack of enthusiasm for any type of social gatherings outside of his small circle of friends was a never ending subject of amusement for his in-laws, especially Tori.

He shot her a broad grin. 'You know me, Tori, I was the heart of the party.'

Even Cyrus laughed out loud at that.

Harry bit his lips, his mouth dry all of a sudden. This was the perfect opening to tell Daphne that he ran into Ginny at the cocktail party and had dinner with her afterwards to catch up. However, how would she take that? Ginny was still an unmentionable topic between them, what if Daphne reacted angrily when she was faced with the facts?

Their agreement never to fight in public still was valid, and it also included fights in front of her family, especially Cyrus. True, they hardly ever fought, but it happened once in a while, and they'd both managed to keep it between themselves. If he told her here and now, and she got angry, that would be a breach of their agreement, and she would resent that, maybe even more than his dinner with Ginny. No, he'd better wait until they were back home and talk to her then.

They stayed with Daphne's family for the afternoon. Harry and Daphne chatted and laughed with Tori, and the fun of the afternoon brought a rosy glow to the younger girl's pale cheeks. Harry suppressed a sigh. For how much longer would they be able to enjoy Tori's company like this? Should he suggest they move back in so that Daphne and Astoria could spend time together before it was too late? Tori's time was finite whilst he and Daphne in theory had a lifetime together.

Daphne was very quiet when he walked her to the Apparition point and Apparated her home to get ready for their dinner at _Shell Cottage_. They were already running late, so he Apparated them straight to their bedroom.

The moment they arrived, Daphne made a turn towards the bathroom, her eyes downcast, but he held her back and pulled her in his arms.

'I know you're scared out of your mind for your little sister, darling. Remember, whatever happens, you're not alone in this.' He dropped a kiss on the crown of her head.

She flung her arms around him and buried her head at his chest. Her shoulders shook. All he could do was caressing her back in soothing circles and let her have a cry on his shoulder, though he had to bite his lips to prevent himself from crying and venting at the unfairness of Tori's life.

He had to wait a long time until she raised her head and looked at him with bloodshot, puffy eyes. 'Thank you, honey; I needed that.'

'Anytime, darling,' he said and gave her a small kiss.

Daphne extricated herself from his arms; her gaze fell on the old-fashioned, mechanical brass alarm clock on his bedside table, and she let out a small shriek. 'Merlin, Harry, we have to get ready, or we'll be inexcusably late!'

She sprinted towards the bathroom. The next moment he heard the shower running. He followed her into the spacious marble bath attached to the master bedroom at a much slower pace. There'd be more than enough time for him to shave before she'd come out of the shower and it was his turn, this much he had learned in the five years of their marriage.

Today, however, she surprised him. He was not yet finished when the glass door of the shower opened and Daphne darted past him towards the walk-in closet. She didn't bother neither with her bathrobe nor with a towel to cover herself.

He whistled. 'Nice birthday suit, dear, although I would say that it's a bit risque for dinner.'

'Shut up, Potter.' The reply was muffled and slightly panicked.

Ugh, that sounded like an imminent wardrobe crisis, something to stay as far away from as possible. He grinned and stepped under the shower.

Five minutes later he joined her in the closet, still towelling his hair.

She stood in front of the mirror in jeans and bra, and alternated holding two blouses against her chest.

'Take the one with the long sleeves,' he said, and put on a pair of jeans. 'Fleur will most likely have dinner outside, and you know how cold the wind can get on that cliff at night, even in summer.'

'You're right,' she said, and slipped into the sleeveless blouse.

Harry rolled his eyes, but kept his mouth shut.

Daphne pouted at him. 'Don't give me that look. I'll take a warm cardigan with me. Besides, I'm a witch and I can cast a Warming Charm on myself anytime I need to.' She vanished into the bathroom.

'Says she who is pants at Warming Charms,' Harry said to her retreating back, though in a low voice.

'I heard that!' his wife said from the bathroom. 'If everything fails, I still have you with me. Your Warming Charms are the best.'

Harry closed the last button of his shirt and slipped into a pair of comfortable loafers. He walked towards the bathroom and leaned against the doorframe.

Daphne had applied some lipstick and mascara, and now brushed her hair for a last time. When he appeared in the doorframe, she blew him a small kiss. Her cheeks were a trifle pinker than usual. Had she also to think of that Christmas he'd placed a Warming Charm on her for the first time? Most likely.

Something had changed between them on that day, he couldn't put his fingers on it, but it had nothing to do with becoming physical with each other for the first time. Daphne had already been a close friend before that, but ever since that day he knew for certain there was nobody in this world he could rely on like on her, not even Ron and Hermione.

Funny enough, they'd never talked about it, though the way she looked at him and acted around him told him she felt the same. Maybe there were some things you didn't have to talk about, it was enough to know them and to feel them.

Daphne had finished brushing her hair and turned towards him. 'How do I look?'

'Gorgeous, sensational, beautiful as always, darling' he said, stepped towards her and slid his arms around her waist.

She laughed, put her arms around his neck, and gave him a small kiss. 'Flatterer. You know that you're biased, don't you?'

'Says who?' he asked, and bent down to give her a proper kiss, but she planted the palms of her hands on his chest and pushed him away gently.

'No, no, no, not this time, mister, A, you're not stealing all my lipgloss, B, you'll get me all rumpled and mess my hair up and C, if you start I'm not going to want to stop and we don't have time for that. We were supposed to be at _Shell Cottage_ twenty minutes ago.'

'Argh!'

She slipped out of his embrace and gave him a smile over her shoulder that was full of promise and made his knees weak. Why again were they supposed to be at _Shell Cottage_ tonight?

Daphne left him no time to dwell on that thought. She picked up her cardigan and her purse and grabbed his arm. 'I'm ready. What about you?'

With a last low growl he grabbed for his jacket, and then Apparated them to _Shell Cottage_.

_t.b.c._


	4. Chapter 4

_ **Shell Cottage, July 2003** _

'Unca Harry, Aunty Daffy,' a high-pitched child's voice shrieked the moment they appeared just outside of the wards of _Shell Cottage._ Harry and Daphne shared an amused smile, then turned to walk towards Fleur and Bill's cottage through the long grass that bent in the evening breeze.

The small house was bathed in the long, golden rays of the evening sun. From where they stood they couldn't see the sea at the base of the cliff, but the noise of the constant slapping of the waves against the stone was hard to miss.

As Harry had predicted, Fleur had put up a table in front of the cottage, sheltered from the wind that blew from the sea and carried a fresh smell of salt and seaweed. A Muggle-style top of the range barbecue grill stood next to the table in a short distance and gave out puffs of delicious smelling smoke. It had been a joint Christmas present from them, Lisa & Justin, and Hermione & Ron a couple of years ago.

Justin stood next to the grill, being the _chef _of the day. Harry grinned; that was a wise move on Justin's part, the two of them had a silent agreement to ensure that they shared that duty since the Weasley men didn't seem to be capable to produce anything other than charcoal.

Ron stood next to Justin, a bottle in his hand, and told him something with wide gestures of his arms that had Justin breaking out into laughter.

Hermione and Lisa sat at the table, their heads stuck together. Fleur was nowhere to be seen, while Bill chased after a little blonde whirlwind who ran towards Daphne and Harry as fast as her short legs would carry her, her long, almost white-blonde curls streaming behind her.

'Unca Harry! Aunty Daffy!'

Bill caught the small bundle of energy just before she reached the wards, and scooped her up in his arms. 'How many times do I have to tell you that you ought not to run beyond the wards, Victoire?' he asked in a stern voice.

The three-year-old stuck out a trembling bottom lip, and her huge, blue eyes swam in tears. 'S...sorry, daddy. I's forgot.'

'That's obvious,' Bill said, his eyebrows knitted together, but the corners of his mouth twitched. 'See that you think of it the next time.'

He gave his daughter a small peck on the cheek, put her to the ground and sent her off to Harry and Daphne with a soft pat on her tiny derriere.

Victoire was already all smiles and laughter again when she reached Harry and Daphne.

Harry picked her up and swirled her around, which made her shriek and giggle. He stopped, gave her a hug and a peck on the cheek, and then handed her into Daphne's outstretched arms.

Another round of cuddles later, Victoire ran towards the house, a colourful picture book in her hands.

'_Maman, maman, _look what Aunty Daffy got me!' she shouted.

Fleur had just stepped out of the house, an infant wrapped in a pink blanket in her arms. She walked towards Harry and Daphne and greeted them both with a warm smile and kisses on both of their cheeks.

'You shouldn't have. You are spoiling her rotten,' she said to Daphne.

Daphne laughed to that. 'It's more like spoiling myself. She's always so happy when she gets a small gift.' She bent down to the tiny bundle in Fleur's arms and tickled the cheek of the sleeping infant with her pinky finger. 'How is my goddaughter?'

'Sleeping, feeding, sleeping, and sometimes crying,' Fleur said. 'Though not quite as often as Victoire cried. Dominique is a very quiet baby.'

'What did you expect? She's also my goddaughter. Of course she'd be an exceptionally well behaved baby,' Harry said with a straight face.

That had both woman snort. They rolled their eyes and looked at each other. 'Nah!' they said unison.

Harry stuck out his bottom lip in a reasonable imitation of Victoire. 'Now I'm hurt.'

However, that didn't impress the two witches. Daphne laughed, and Fleur put her daughter into his arms. 'Here, make yourself useful and take care of Dominique. I have some _baguettes _filled with herb butter in the oven and don't want them to burn.'

She turned around and walked back into the house.

His goddaughter in his arms, Harry followed Daphne to greet their host and present him with a few bottles of wine for the evening. He looked down at the baby in his arms, and a wistful smile flickered over his face.

How was Teddy doing, the godson Remus and Tonks had entrusted into his care the day he was born? His grandmother, Andromeda Tonks, had been heartbroken after the end of the war. The deaths of her only child and son-in-law had been the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back. Unable to face the reminders of the losses she'd faced day by day, she'd sold the small farm where she and Ted had lived, and moved with Teddy to New Zealand, to live with Ted's brother and his wife, who had gotten out of dodge during the first war. He supposed at some point he should really go and see them rather than just send the obligatory christmas and birthday presents, but time had managed to get away from him again since he thought about it last.

His melancholy thoughts dissipated as Daphne took him by the elbow, and they walked over to the table to greet Hermione and Lisa.

Hermione sprang up from her seat and gave them both one of her trademark hugs, whilst he maneuvered Dominique around to ensure she wasn't collateral damage. Lisa followed suit, though her movements were slowed down by her huge baby bump. She and Justin had married last August and almost immediately after that had started with their family. Their first child was due any day now.

'I'm not sure if it's still safe to stand next to Lisa,' Harry said to Daphne in a low voice as they walked over to the barbeque to greet Ron and Justin. 'She looks as if she's going to explode any second.'

Daphne gave him a soft slap on the arm. 'You're such a prat! I would've expected that remark from Ron, but not from you. Will you make such remarks about me, too, when it's my turn to have a huge belly?'

'What have I done this time?' Ron asked and gave Daphne a hug in greeting. 'I swear I'm innocent and was framed.'

'Actually, you have been for a change,' Daphne said and returned his hug. 'My husband decided to be insufferable.' She shook her head and looked at Harry with narrowed eyes.

Harry mock-gulped. He leaned over to Daphne, mindful of the sleeping baby in his arms, and gave her a peck on the cheek. 'Sorry, darling. I'm sure you'll be the most beautiful expecting mum ever.'

'That's better,' Daphne said and smiled at him.

He shot her a grin. 'Even if you'll look as if you're going to explode.'

Justin and Ron burst out laughing. Daphne took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly.

'How often do you make your wife silently count to ten after one of your cheeky remarks?' a grinning Justin asked, whilst he studied the steaks on the grill, before obviously making up his mind and starting to flip them over.

Daphne let out a sigh of long suffering. 'Too often,' she said, gave Harry a mock-glare, and took the baby out of his arm. 'I'd better take care of your goddaughter before you corrupt her beyond repair.'

With the baby in her arms, she walked over to Lisa and Hermione at the table.

Harry followed her with his eyes. She'd cradled the baby to her chest, put a small kiss on its forehead, and rocked it gently. There was no doubt she'd be a fantastic mother one day. A smile crept into his face.

How would it be to see her with a baby bump? Even more important, when would she be ready for that?

They'd agreed to wait before having children at least until they had finished their studies. Well, that time had come, but Daphne was as involved in the family business as he was, so would she be ready to start their family right now, or would she want to work in the company for a couple of years?

'Oy, ground control to Major Tom,' Justin's voice interrupted his thoughts.

'Uh?' Yanked out of his daydream, he turned to his friend.

'Ground what to who?' Ron asked at the same time.

'It's a Muggle term,' Justin said. He jerked his thumb to Ron. 'Actually, Ron tried to get your attention, but you were completely zoned out while you admired your wife with your goddaughter.' He gave Harry a knowing grin.

Harry's cheeks grew warm. 'What do you want, Ron?'

Ron took a swig out of his bottle. 'It happened while you were abroad, but I think you need to know, mate. Lucius Malfoy applied for probation after having served half of his sentence. 'Course he got denied, and was pretty pissed 'bout that. There's no saying with what he'll come up to get back at you, Harry.'

Harry bent down toward the bucket next to the barbeque that was filled with ice and an assortment of bottles, pulling out a bottle of Butterbeer for himself.

'I don't agree, Ron,' he said. 'Even though Lucius made threats against the Greengrass family and me, you never found any evidence that he was behind the attack on Daphne and me in Paris. That was almost five years ago, and nothing happened since then. I think it's rather far fetched to assume he'd attack us now, just because his probation has been denied.'

Ron opened his mouth as if he wanted to disagree, but was interrupted by Justin, who handed him a plate with steaks piled up high. 'Here, make yourself somewhat useful and take them to the table.'

Ron's face lit up at the prospect of imminent food, grabbed the plate, and carried it to the table as if there were the crown jewels of Britain on it.

Harry and Justin shared a grin and followed him to the table.

As always when the eight friends met, there was a lot of talk and laughter. Ron piled his plate with food and obviously forgot his worries about Lucius Malfoy and the threat he might pose over his dinner.

Harry sighed to himself. If only he could let go of his worries as easily. Ron's warning bothered him more than he liked to admit.

He cast a surreptitious glance at the young woman by his side. She still had Dominique in one arm and ate with the other hand, while she chatted with Lisa and Fleur about their experiences during their pregnancies.

His heart made a flip-flop. Daphne asked her friends a lot of detailed questions. Did that mean she was considering starting a family?

Harry's chest tightened, and he clutched his hands around his cutlery as unthinkable concerns entered his head: what if Lucius Malfoy chose right now to try and get his revenge by attacking Daphne? His heart thudded in his chest; he'd be devastated if something happened to her, she'd become an integral part of his life, and he couldn't imagine living without her, especially not now, when it seemed as if everything they had planned together and dreamed about was finally going to become reality.

He took a calming breath. Nothing would be gained if he started to panic. Common sense told him that it was nigh on impossible for Lucius Malfoy to stage an attack from Azkaban. These days the Malfoys were as good as broke, and all the "business connections" they might have had at one point were keeping Lucius company in Azkaban. Draco, unable to live of the family wealth or obtain a honourable occupation, thanks to the reputation he had earned himself during the war, had become a petty criminal. He hadn't the connections to stage an attack on them to revenge his father - or did he?

He shook his head. No, even if Malfoy had the means, he'd never have the guts to kill someone.

'How was New York?' Hermione's question startled him out of his thoughts.

He grinned at her across the table. 'Big, crowded and noisy.'

She rolled her eyes at him. 'Only you, Harry, could stay in one of the most exciting cities of the world and have nothing to tell.'

'That's because I haven't,' he said, and pulled a bowl with potato salad towards him to get himself another helping. 'I wasn't there for fun. Most of my time was spent in conference rooms and meetings.'

Of course she at once caught on to what he had omitted. 'And what's about the rest of your time?'

'Sleeping and eating.' He grinned at her between ladling spoonfuls of salad onto his plate. 'Though I went to a cocktail party and spent the last day doing some personal errands.' He pushed the bowl back on its place, and again his eyes wandered to Daphne.

Hermione chuckled. 'I think I know what that was.' She took a sip of her wine. 'You're such a devoted husband, Harry. Daphne is one lucky witch.'

He squirmed at her words and lowered his eyes. Was he? He surely tried to do right by Daphne; she didn't deserve anything less, after everything she'd done for him; she was his closest ally and fiercest supporter, and he cared for her. Very much, actually.

And yet he still hadn't told her about Ginny …

He sighed, slipped his wand out of its holster for an inch, and cast a silent Privacy Spell around Hermione and himself.

'I ran into Ginny in New York,' he said under the cover of the spell. 'We had dinner with each other.'

Hermione froze; her hand with her glass of wine stopped midway between her mouth and the table. She put the glass back on the table in a very slow and deliberate move, while she cast him a strange look. 'Was that all you did with her?'

What the -. Then the meaning of her words hit him. Heat shot into his cheeks. 'Of course! What do you think of me, Hermione? I'm a married man!'

She pressed her lips together. 'That's a reason, Harry, but not an impassable obstacle for some.'

His hand clenched around the bottle of Butterbeer next to his plate, and he cast her a dirty look. 'Well, to me it is. All we did was talk. She's not happy at the moment.'

'You've heard about her last divorce?'

'Yeah, she told me about that. She seemed to be rather depressed about it, too, though I had the impression -' He interrupted himself, bit his lower lip, and studied the label on the bottle as if it was the most interesting thing on earth.

'That she still wants you?' Hermione asked. He didn't need to see her face to know she was frowning, her voice dripped with disapproval.

He jerked his head up. 'What? Merlin, no, she did nothing to give me that impression.' At least she'd done nothing as outspoken as during their last encounter in the orchard. Had she given him small, covert hints that she still was interested in him? He snorted. How was he supposed to know? He'd always been pants at understanding the hidden signals girls gave him, almost five years of marriage hadn't changed that in the slightest.

He harrumphed and fidgeted with his bottle, before he said, 'I had the impression she's still suffering from what happened five years ago. She said she made a few poor choices because of that.'

The frown on Hermione's face became even deeper. 'That's a long time to cry over spilled milk.'

Harry nodded. 'That's exactly what I thought.' He raised his bottle, took a swig and lowered the bottle halfway to the table. 'Besides that, you are also married now, Hermione, though only for a couple of weeks instead of years like Daphne and I. But you've been with Ron for years, by now you should know that a relationship isn't always sunshine and happiness, and that it takes two to make it work. Ginny, I'm afraid, hasn't caught on that yet. Actually, she threw kind of a pity-party for herself and expected me to commiserate with her.' He took another swig out of his bottle.

Hermione's brows shot up. 'And did you?'

He shook his head. 'I couldn't find it in myself. However, I couldn't tell her to get a grip on herself and grow up, either, so -'

'So you chickened out?' Hermione asked, a knowing smile on her face.

Harry laughed. 'You know me too well. She wanted to spend some more time together at the bar and talk, but I told her I was knackered, which wasn't a lie, by the way, and went back to my hotel - alone.'

The smile on Hermione's face became broader. 'Good for you. Have you told Daphne about that encounter?'

'No, there hasn't been the right moment yet.'

Hermione sobered and she reached with her hand across the table and put it on his. 'You ought to tell her, Harry, and soon, this isn't something you want getting back to her some other way.'

He nodded, Hermione confirmed his thoughts on the Ginny-problem, but there hadn't been the time for a lengthy and undisturbed talk for him and Daphne yet. Oh, well, they still had the rest of the weekend to themselves, he'd talk to her tomorrow.

Daphne's hand on his arm caught his attention, and he turned towards her.

She grinned up at him. 'Are you two conspiring to take over the world?'

Harry laughed and cancelled the Privacy Charm. 'Nothing that exciting. Just some private talk among old friends.' Warmth crept into his cheeks. What if Daphne wanted to know what they had talked about?

Hermione, Merlin bless her, came to his rescue. 'I told Harry how queasy I am for the upcoming recruitment tests at Crystal Fairy's on Monday.'

Daphne laughed and adjusted Dominique on her arm. 'You have nothing to worry about, Hermione. You had the highest results in a Potions Mastery since Professor Snape. If the Ministry can't appreciate your genius, Crystal Fairy can. The contribution an employee makes to the success of our company has always been more important to us than blood status.'

However, Hermione worried her lower lip between her teeth and gave Daphne a doubtful glance. 'If you say so.'

Harry sighed, he surely couldn't fault Hermione for her doubts. She had finished her N.E.W.T.s with straight Os in all her chosen objects, and had immediately started a Potions Mastery at Canterbury Magical University a year after them. The three years at university together with Daphne and Hermione had been one of the best times of his life. She had finished her mastery in record time a year ago, and once again with top grades.

Kingsley had been only too happy to recruit her into the Ministry, and as one of that years top recruits had given her a free choice in which department she wanted to work. Hermione had set her heart on the Department of Mysteries.

And that was when the trouble started.

The head of the department, though no Death Eater, was a staunch supporter of Pureblood Supremacy. As of yet, Kingsley had found no reason to remove the man from his position; though a former Ravenclaw, he was too cunning to give the Minister of Magic a reason to fire him. He'd taken it as a personal offence that Kingsley forced a Mudblood on him - all of the other, hand-picked employees of the Department of Mysteries were Purebloods, or at least Halfbloods with best connections all over the magical society.

It didn't help at all that Hermione's professional abilities outshone many the other members of the department, the head included, or that she was best friends with the Chosen One and engaged to Ronald Weasley, the rising star in the Auror Department. He'd resented her even more for that and made her life hell in such insidious ways that made it hard to nigh on impossible to finger him as the perpetrator.

Hermione had become deeply unhappy and reserved, drawing back into herself in a way that reminded Harry of the friendless eleven year old girl she had been once, but she was determined not to budge. He and Daphne had had a hard time to persuade her to send in her application to Crystal Fairy's, Harry had felt like hexing her on more than one occasion due to obstinance. When she had finally relented and sent in her application, Cyrus had taken all of about ten minutes before he agreed with them that she'd be a valuable asset for the magical part of the company. They all had no doubt she'd get one of the three positions they had to fill.

'I told you I agree with Daphne. Just you wait and see, you'll sail through the tests with flying colours,' he said to his friend, and she shot him a thankful smile.

Lisa demanded Hermione's attention with a question, and the conversation changed to other topics.

As always when the friends met, they had a much too good time to part soon, and it was already well after midnight when Harry Apparated himself and Daphne home. It had been another long day for him, after a night with little sleep, and he was out like a light as soon as his head touched the pillow.

* * *

When he woke up the next morning, the sun already was high in the sky, and the bed beside him was cold and empty. He got out of bed, showered, dressed, and then went downstairs in search of his missing wife.

He entered the bright and airy family room. With its light, cheerful colours, comfortable chairs and sofa, shelves filled with books, and dozens of pictures of family and friends on the walls and on the mantlepiece of the fireplace it was his favourite room in the house.

However, the cranky wails of a baby made him stop in his tracks.

Daphne sat on the sofa, a clearly unhappy Dominique in her arm, and gave him an almost desperate look over the baby's head.

'Good morning.' He sat down beside Daphne on the red leather couch, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and tickled his goddaughter with a finger. 'And to what do we owe the honour of a visit by Her Ungraciousness?'

Daphne laughed, albeit rather strained, and kissed him back. 'It's rather good afternoon, sleepyhead. I had lunch already.'

'Oh... you should've woken me up.'

'You needed your sleep; I know you too well, Potter, you've been pushing yourself whilst you were away: you had your own carry on luggage under your eyes.' Daphne shook her head. 'To answer your question, Lisa went into labour early this morning, and since Fleur had agreed to support her during that time, it was up to Bill to take care of his daughters today. Unfortunately, Victoire seems to have caught a bug, and he has his hands full with her. I got an emergency Floocall around eight if I'd take Dominique today. Molly and Arthur are still in Romania, visiting with Charlie.'

'And of course you said yes,' Harry said and tickled Dominique once again. 'It'll be nice to have some bonding time with our goddaughter.'

Daphne gave him a wry side glance. 'Let's see if you'll still say that tonight. The little miss realises that something is out of the order, and has been fussy and weepy all morning long. I've tried to get her to sleep in her pram, but she insists to stay on my arm. You miss your mummy, my precious, don't you?' She dropped a kiss on the downy head at her shoulder.

Harry's eyebrows rose up. 'So, you're a demanding young lady, are you Miss Weasley?' he asked the baby in Daphne's arm.

Dominique turned her head into the direction of his voice, sucked at her tiny fist, and let out a mournful low wail.

'I'll take that as a yes,' Harry said with grin. He scooted nearer to his wife and put his arm around her shoulder. 'Since it doesn't look as if we're going to go anywhere today, there's something I've been meaning to talk about to you.' His heart beat a drumroll. It was now or never, he had to tell Daphne about his encounter with Ginny, or it would be too late.

She turned her head and gave him a look with raised eyebrows. 'And that is?'

'Well, while I was in New York -'

He didn't get farther. Dominique chose that moment to let out a few short cries, like an engine sputtering to life, and then a deafening wail followed.

Daphne looked at her wristwatch. 'Uh oh, seems this little one's hungry; it's almost her afternoon feeding time. Sorry, honey, but whatever it is you want to talk about, it has to wait. Her Highness comes first.'

She shifted the wailing infant on her arm, slipped out her wand and Summoned a bottle with milk from a bag that sat on the window seat.

'At least Fleur has left enough milk to get her through the day. Lisa surely wouldn't appreciate it if I barged in on them right now so that Fleur can breastfeed her daughter,' she said while she dipped the bottle and let a drop of milk fall on the inside of her wrist to test the temperature. Satisfied with the result, she tickled the corner of Dominique's mouth with the tip of the teat.

The wailing stopped immediately. Dominique turned her tiny head, snatched for the teat with an audible snap of her mouth, and began sucking, puffing and blowing, while one of her pudgy legs pumped in sync with her sucks.

Harry and Daphne looked at each other and shared a smile, and then looked down at their contentedly feeding goddaughter again.

Harry's heart grew warm. That was a sight he could get used to. How would it be to watch Daphne feed their own baby?

Daphne turned her head and blew him a kiss. There was a soft smile around her lips, and her eyes beamed at him. Had she somehow learned Legilimency?

However, that were the last peaceful minutes they had that day. Dominique turned out to be a very difficult and demanding visitor. She refused to stay in her pram, and would start to wail the moment they tried to put her down for a nap.

They took turns carrying the infant in their arms all day long, and rocking and singing her to sleep in their arms. Even then, Dominique would be fitful and restless.

Dinner was already a memory, and the sun went down behind the tall houses of Grimmauld Place when the Floo in the family room flared up.

Harry had just managed to persuade Dominique to take a nap on his shoulder. At the sound of the roaring Floo, however, the baby startled and began wailing once again.

Harry clenched his teeth. Whoever called, they'd better had a very good reason.

Daphne gave him an understanding glance and got up to answer the call.

Justin's beaming face appeared in the green flames. 'It's a boy! Richard Henry Finch-Fletchley arrived one hour ago. Lisa's tired, but alright.'

'Oh, Justin, that's wonderful news! Congratulations! Please, give Lisa our congratulations,' Daphne said with a broad smile.

'I will,' Justin said. 'By the way, Fleur said she'll go home any minute now, so you can drop Dominique at _Shell Cottage.'_

'Alright; thank you for informing us, Justin, and congratulations again.'

Justin gave her another grin and withdrew his head. The flames died down.

Daphne got to her feet. Her face beamed. 'Isn't that wonderful news? I'm so happy for Lisa and Justin.' She began to gather Dominique's things that had spread themselves across the family room during the day.

'Yeah, it's wonderful,' Harry agreed, and rocked a still whining Dominique in his arms.

His wife flicked her wand, Banished Dominique's things to _Shell Cottage _with a silent spell, and let out a huge yawn while she stashed her wand away.

Harry got to his feet, the baby on his arm, stepped to Daphne and gave her a kiss. 'Go to sleep, darling. I'll take Dominique home and will be back in a few minutes.'

She gave him a thankful, but tired smile in return, kissed Dominique's cheek and left the room.

'Kreacher,' Harry called.

The ancient house elf appeared immediately.

'Please, take us to _Shell Cottage._'

Apparition by elf was still the most comfortable means of magical travel, and as cranky as Dominique was, he didn't want to make it worse by Flooing her back home or Apparating with her. Merlin knew Bill and Fleur wouldn't thank him for that; they both had had a hard day after a short night of sleep.

As he'd predicted, a hollow-eyed Fleur took Dominique from him and thanked him, while he could hear Bill talking to Victoire upstairs.

Five minutes later, he was back home in their bedroom. The room was almost the exact copy of their bedroom back at _The Coach House. _Harry looked towards the bed; the duvet was pulled back, but Daphne wasn't there.

His eyebrows went up. 'Daphne?'

'I'm in here.' Her voice came from the direction of the bathroom, and he walked over and leaned against the doorframe.

She stood in front of her opened bathroom cabinet, where she used to keep her makeup and her Contraceptive Potions, and eyed the neat row of vials with a slight furrow between her brows and a mysterious smile around her lips. When she heard him enter, she turned around and gave him an impish smile, and there was a light in her eyes he'd never seen before.

His heartbeat sped up. What was that about?

She slid her wand out of the holster on her wrist. 'I think we don't need them anymore, or what do you think, honey?' A flick of her wand Vanished the neat row of Contraceptive Potions.

The breath caught in Harry's throat, his heart made a flip-flop, and a huge smile crept on his face. He stepped towards Daphne and took her in his arms.

'You're right, we don't need them anymore,' he said, and kissed her.

_t.b.c._


	5. Chapter 5

_ **Grimmauld Place, London, July 2003** _

The alarm clock rang much, much too early on Monday morning.

Harry groaned and stretched out his arm to stop the offending noise. That was no small feat; Daphne was spread across him, her head tucked under his chin, and her hair tickled his face.

She stirred and muttered something unintelligible.

He gave a small chuckle. 'Good morning, darling,' he said, and dropped a kiss on her head.

'It's too early for a good morning,' the sourpuss on his chest replied.

Harry grinned; she was adorable when she was all sleepy and grumpy. He caressed her bare back with his hands, and she moaned and snuggled up closer. Of course, that at once elicited a reaction from his still awakening body.

Daphne raised her head, grinned at him and let her wand slip out of the holster she still carried all around the clock. 'How much value do you place on your breakfast this morning?' she asked, and cast a silent Breath Refreshing Charm on them.

'Why do I have the impression there's only one possible answer?' he replied, and kissed her.

* * *

Of course, he and Daphne were the last to arrive at the conference room of the magical department of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products that morning.

Dennis Pince, the director of the Department for Magical Research and Development, greeted them with a frown and a pointed look on his wristwatch. However, the old stickler had no real reason to complain, the big clock in the conference room showed that there was still a minute until the appointed time for the beginning of the recruitment tests.

They sat down side by side, next to Director Pince. Harry looked at the three rows of hopefuls opposite of them.

Hermione sat in the front row, together with two other witches who had applied for the job. One of them looked familiar. She'd been in Hogwarts, a couple of years ahead of them, though neither in Gryffindor nor in Slytherin, Patience or Penny something … He almost slapped his forehead with his hand when the name came back to him; Penelope Clearwater, Percy's former girlfriend.

He gave Hermione an imperceptible nod, and she reciprocated with a small smile and a covert rolling of her eyes. She and Pince would understand each other, both were sticklers for punctuality.

Harry listened how Daphne greeted the job applicants and explained the schedule of the day. She was doing an internship with the director of the Department for Magical Personnel Management at the moment, and he'd been happy to delegate the lead of today's recruitment tests to her.

Harry was there as a representative of the executive board, his vote would decide if Daphne and Pince couldn't agree on a candidate.

He took a look at the candidates in the second row. The rest of the job applicants were male, and he had to bite on the inside of his cheeks and suppress a groan when he recognised Cormac McLaggen among them.

They began with the first part of the testing, a multiple choice test to determine the proficiency of the applicants with the kind of potions they'd have to deal with, and their knowledge about magical potion ingredients used in Beauty Potions. The test lasted for an hour, after that the applicants had a short break in the coffee lounge outside of the conference room, while Pince, Daphne and he remained in the room and analysed the results with the help of the answering scheme.

'Well, it seems we have clear winners and losers here,' Daphne said, and wrote down the results of the last applicant into a list on a sheet of parchment in front of her. 'There are four Potion Master among the applicants. All four came through this test with top results. Then there are two applicants who've worked with potions for a couple of years. Their results are good, though not as good as the results of the first group. And then there are four applicants who clearly don't meet the standards we expect. I'd suggest to send them home, and continue the practical part of the testing with the six who have shown us a sound theoretical understanding of what we do here.'

Her suggestion was reasonable, and Harry nodded alongside with Director Pince.

They called in the four unfortunate applicants one by one, and Daphne thanked them for their time, but also told them that the other candidates had better results. The candidates accepted the refusal with resigned smiles and nods.

Harry cast his Patronus to call the remaining applicants into the conference room. Daphne congratulated them on having reached the second phase of the testing, and then led them out of the conference room towards the Potions Laboratory.

Two rows of bubbling cauldrons awaited the applicants in the laboratory, three in each row.

Hermione walked to the cauldron at the leftmost side in the first row. Penelope took the cauldron in the middle, next to her. The last cauldron was claimed by a middle-aged wizard with a droopy mustache and a matt of greying hair.

McLaggen took the cauldron behind Hermione, and the two remaining cauldrons were claimed by two male wizards; Williams and Cadwallader, their name tags read.

Harry, Daphne and Pince took their seats at the head of the room.

Daphne cleared her throat. 'I'm now going to explain what you're expected to do, so listen carefully.' She pointed towards the two rows of cauldrons. 'In the cauldrons in front of you you'll find an example of a newly developed hair dying potion. However, we made an intentional mistake while brewing this batch. You'll have to find out what is wrong with the potion and make a suggestion how to reach the intended result. You have three hours. Begin, and good luck.'

'Thank you, ma'am,' a voice with a heavy American accent said.

Harry glanced up just in time to catch Williams giving Daphne a broad smile and a wink. He grimaced inwardly and folded his arms in front of his chest. What a git. At least Daphne didn't react to him.

Hermione set to work without hesitation. Harry suppressed a smile; this was right up her alley, a puzzle to challenge her ability to analyse and to think logical. There was no doubt in his mind she'd come out on top of this test.

Beside him, Daphne shifted in her seat. He turned his head towards her. She was also watching Hermione, her lips turned upwards. Their eyes met, and they exchanged a knowing smirk.

Pince doodled with a quill on the parchment in front of him, but Harry kept his attention trained on the applicants. The way they set to work was already telling. Three of the four other males in the room chose the same analytical approach as Hermione. Among them was Cormac McLaggen. Now, who would've thought that?

Harry checked the papers in front of him. Maybe he shouldn't be that amazed, McLaggen had obtained a Potions Mastery in Spain, and his grades weren't far behind Hermione's. The two other blokes, Morten Williams and Alexander Cadwallader, were US citizens and had obtained a Potions Mastery at Salem, though in different years. Their papers also were flawless, and their performance up till now confirmed that.

Penelope Clearwater, however, seemed to be out of her depth. She acted like a headless chicken and it looked as if she had no idea what she was doing. Harry still watched her closely when the small cauldron with her Analysing Potion exploded right into her face.

He and Daphne were up from their seats and ran to the screaming Penelope within a split second. Thick globs of potion dripped down from her head to the ground; beneath the potion the skin of her face looked red and angry, her eyes were already swelling shut, and thick patches of her hair were beginning to fall out.

Harry took her hand, put an arm around her shoulder and led her to the side, while Daphne put a Stasis Charm on the site of the accident. Penelope's screams died down to a whimper, though her head seemed to swell even more.

'You'd better take her to St Mungo's, Harry. I'll take care of the mess here,' Daphne said.

Harry nodded. They hadn't counted on an accident, but since this was an experimental potions laboratory, they were prepared for one. He summoned an Emergency Portkey, fastened it to Penelope's robes with a Sticking Charm, and activated it. A second later he and Penelope were at St Mungo's emergency department.

'Potions accident,' he told the healer who rushed up to them, and gave him some details about what Penelope had been doing.

The healer nodded in understanding. He helped Penelope into a wheelchair and patted her hand. 'Don't worry, Ms Clearwater, that can be fixed easily. You'll have to stay overnight, but by tomorrow you'll be alright again.'

Harry let out a deep breath. 'I'm glad to hear that.' He put a hand on Penelope's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. 'I'll have to go back, but Daphne and I will come for a visit tonight. Don't worry about the costs of your treatment, it's on Crystal Fairy's.' He squeezed her shoulder a last time, gave her a reassuring nod and then walked to the Apparition point.

Five minutes later he was back in the laboratory. The ranks of the applicants had thinned even more: only Hermione, McLaggen and the two blokes from the USA were left.

As soon as he entered the room, Daphne straightened and looked at him, her dark eyes a dead give away of her worry, but it was doubtful if anyone in the room except for him or maybe Hermione realised that. He gave her a reassuring nod and put his hand on her shoulder for a brief second as he passed her to sit down. She exhaled quietly and relaxed.

Pince was still doodling on his parchment. He hadn't looked up at Harry's entrance, and now made no move to ask after Penelope's wellbeing. Come to think of it, he'd also left it to Daphne and him to deal with the accident. What was Cyrus thinking to put him in charge of a department?

He cast a Privacy Charm and a Silencing Spell around himself and Daphne. 'Penelope will be alright, the healer assured me. I told her we're coming to see her this evening, and that Crystal Fairy will cover the hospital bill.'

'I'm relieved to hear that.'

Harry motioned with his chin towards the second empty place in the first row. 'What happened to the guy who worked there?'

Daphne bit her lip. 'He gave up. I think he came into a deadlock; he looked rather confused when he quit.'

Harry made a face. 'I don't blame him. I would've been there within the first five minutes of this test.'

Finally, the time was up, and the four remaining applicants handed in their results and were sent into a prolonged lunch break.

Even though Harry had got a N.E.W.T. in Potions during his time at Canterbury Magical University, alongside with completing his N.E.W.T.s in Transfiguration, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology and Muggle Studies while he worked for a B.A. in Magical Economics, he couldn't compete with Daphne, let alone with Pince, so he left it to them to analyse the results and went to the cafeteria in the Muggle part of headquarters to get sandwiches for his wife and himself.

Daphne gave him a broad smile and blew him a kiss behind Pince's back when he not only slid a package with a ham and cheese sandwich in front of her, but also another one with a slice of fresh cherry and almond pie.

'We have a clear winner,' she announced, and pushed the sheet of parchment in front of her towards him, while her other hand already grabbed for the sandwich.

Harry suppressed a smile. How did she manage to stay that slim, given the amount of food she consumed each day? Of course, she had missed breakfast, so she must be famished by now. He pulled the parchment towards him and had a look.

As he'd suspected, Hermione had come out on top of the four contestants, but the other three were not far behind, with almost identical scores.

'It seems as if Hermione is a clear first,' Harry said.

'I agree,' Daphne said between two bites of her sandwich. 'I'll put off my decision about the remaining two positions until I have talked to the other three.'

'That makes sense,' Harry said, and bit into his sandwich. How could she consider McLaggen? The git was a braggart and much too full of himself; hadn't she seen him in that Quidditch match in their sixth year?

Though, that had been almost seven years ago. Maybe the git had grown up and changed since he'd sent him that Bludger to the head. He had to be professional about this and give McLaggen the benefit of the doubt.

Daphne unwrapped the pie. 'I want to get a feel about how the four candidates will fit into our team. Their papers and the tests already gave us a good overview about their professional skills, but it's also important that they'll fit in.'

'Actually, you raised a very important point, Mrs Potter. There isn't anything more disruptive than an employee who is forever at odds with their co-workers,' Pince said.

Hermione was the first one to be called into the room. She looked calm and poised when she walked towards the chair opposite of them and sat down, but a quick bite on her lower lip gave her nervousness away.

Harry gave her a small smile.

The interview was led by Pince; after all, it was his department, and he would know what he was looking for in his staff.

Hermione went through the interview with flying colours. Well, he hadn't expected anything else. He exchanged a glance with his wife as the door closed behind Hermione. She looked as satisfied about the outcome of Hermione's interview as he felt.

The interviews of Cadwallader and Williams went by in a similar fashion.

Cadwallader was a somewhat unremarkable, colourless guy with stooped shoulders, dark blonde hair, and hazel coloured eyes that were hidden behind thick glasses. It was doubtful he'd recognise him at a party if he were going to see him there in another two weeks. However, his answers were clear and well thought out, and he carried himself with a calm confidence.

Williams was the exact opposite, at least in looks. Tall and tanned with unruly, sun-streaked hair he looked like a surfer boy right out of an US movie. He also had the body of one, with broad shoulders and narrow hips, and didn't seem to give a fig about the stiff formality Pince preferred. Well, that was a point in his favour, though the appreciative look he gave Daphne did a lot to destroy that positive impression. However, as soon as Pince started with his questions, Williams' demeanour changed from the easy going, playful kid to a highly motivated professional.

'What do you think, gentlemen?' Daphne asked as soon as he was out of the room.

Harry tapped with the fingers of his right hand on the tabletop. 'I'm not sure. His papers are impressive, and the results of his tests confirmed that. Though he acts and carries himself as if he doesn't take anything serious, as soon as it counts he's focussed and professional.'

'I agree,' Daphne said, a frown on her face. 'But I'd like to add that he seems to be kind of a womanizer.'

'So, you've noticed that.'

She snorted. 'That was hard to miss.' The furrow between her brows deepened. 'The question is, will it interfere with his work performance?'

Director Pince cleared his throat. 'I don't think so. The reference letters from his two former employers indicated nothing in that direction, and it shouldn't matter, anyway, as long as he keeps his hands to himself while at work.'

Harry exchanged a look with his wife. Pince was right, as much as it chafed him to admit that. 'Let's talk to McLaggen and decide afterwards.'

McLaggen strutted into the room like a peacock, sat down, and crossed his legs. For the next twenty minutes they were subjected to a loud monologue about what he thought could be changed for the better in the Department of Magical Research and Development.

About five minutes into the monologue, Daphne began to shift in her seat. Another five minutes later Harry wished for a Headache Potion; McLaggen's blustering voice was unbearable.

Pince managed to get in one question at the end of that monologue, when McLaggen ran out of breath. However, that set him off for another ten minutes.

Pince rubbed his forehead, his brows creased. 'Thank you, Mr McLaggen, that'll suffice,' he said at the end of the second monologue.

'Are you sure? I've just scratched the surface,' McLaggen said. 'You could, for example, increase the number of newly developed potions by -'

'As fascinating as this topic is, I think we'd better adjourn this conversation,' Director Pince said in a firm voice. His hand clenched around the quill in his hand. 'We'll let you know our decision tomorrow via owl. Good afternoon, Mr McLaggen.'

McLaggen gave him a broad smile. He stood up, his chest puffed out, and strutted out of the room. Without a doubt he thought that job was already his.

'He's still as full of himself as he was during our time at Hogwarts,' Harry summed up the gist of the interview as soon as the door had closed behind McLaggen.

Daphne nodded to that. 'I agree. My list is Hermione, Williams and Cadwallader, in that order. What about you?' She looked from Harry to Director Pince.

'I agree,' Harry said, 'Though I'd put Williams and Cadwallader into reverse order.'

Director Pince looked at them as if they were some extraordinary daft students. 'Cadwallader, McLaggen, Williams,' he said.

Harry bristled. 'Why not Hermione?'

'Two reasons,' Director Pince said. 'She's a woman, and she's best friends with the future owners. Both will inevitably lead to problems.'

Daphne went straight in her chair. 'That's a rather sexist remark, director.'

'Not at all. The potioneers in my department are all men. We employ a lot of women there, but they all work in subordinate positions, as assistants and secretaries. Putting a young and obviously smart woman in front of them can lead to tensions. I don't want a catfight in my department, Mrs Potter. Also, your friendship with Mrs Granger-Weasley might lead the other employees to believe that she has a special position and cause resentment.'

Harry exchanged a look with his wife. Damned, the director had actually raised a single valid point, that could lead to problems, however -

'I don't agree, director,' Daphne said, cutting off his train of thought. 'As head of the department it is your job to backup Mrs Granger-Weasley if her position is doubted, though I'm sure that she's able to deal with that on her own. And about our friendship … I think we are all professional enough to keep our private life and our job apart.'

'Still, I think Mr McLaggen will be the better choice. Some of his ideas sound very interesting,' Director Pince said.

Harry cleared his throat. It seemed now was the time for him to give the deciding vote. 'McLaggen thinks he always knows the best, and he'll challenge your leadership from the moment on he sets a foot into your laboratory, director. I had the misfortune to have him on my team when I was Quidditch Captain for my house at Hogwarts, and I can tell you he's able to disrupt a well attuned team more effectively than a pair of Bludgers, and quicker than I can say Quidditch. From what I observed today, he hasn't changed one bit. You fear Mrs Granger-Weasley might turn out to be disruptive for your team, but I can guarantee that McLaggen will do just that.'

Director Pince didn't answer to that, but stared ahead, a frown on his face. After a few minutes of what seemed to have been deep thought, he said, 'He surely comes across as rather strong-minded.'

Harry snorted at that. 'That's putting it mildly, director.'

Pince gathered his papers. 'Alright, you seemed to have made your decision, Mr Potter, and I have to bow to the majority vote. Though I think it's deplorable that your decision is ruled by your affection for your wife and your friend, and old school grudges, instead of logical reasoning. Good evening.' He stood up and left the room.

Harry gaped after him. Had he been in another interview than Pince? McLaggen had been intolerable, even Pince should've been able to see that -

'What a git,' Daphne's voice broke into his thoughts. 'I suppose he'll run straight to Father to complain about us.'

'I don't know why your father still puts up with Pince. It doesn't seem to me he takes his obligations as serious as he should.'

Daphne pushed back a strand of her hair behind her ear with a finger. 'Well, his predecessor was a Muggleborn. She was killed in the first war against Voldemort, and Father had a hard time to find a replacement. I think Pince was all Father could get, and while he's a human rectal orifice, he's proficient enough in his field. However, I agree that his leadership qualities leave a lot to be desired. It's intolerable that he lets his prejudices rule his judgement, and Father needs to hear about that.'

He gave his wife a glance from the side. 'It's hard to imagine he doesn't know already. Don't you think that might be the reason why he put the two of us in charge of the selection of the applicants, together with Pince? We're able to overrule him, and at the same time it'll show him where the company is heading when we're in charge.'

She looked startled at his observation. 'Of course, how could I've been that ignorant?' She let out a small laugh. 'I think by now you know Father even better than I do. Well, chances are good we'll never have to deal with Pince's attitude when we're in charge; his current contract will expire in about two years.'

'Thank Merlin for small blessings,' Harry said, and Daphne laughed, but nodded to his words.

'Maybe Father pulled some strings to get us involved with the recruitment today to show him that the guard will be changing and that it'll be better all round if he were to move on. That kind of subtle persuasion is just his style.'

Harry bit on his tongue to hold back a remark of Cyrus' not so subtle means of persuasion when it came to him. Daphne didn't deserve to be punished for her father's deeds, and he couldn't turn back time, anyway.

He cast a surreptitious look at his wife as she gathered her papers, and his insides grew warm. If he was honest with himself, he didn't want to turn back time; Daphne was easily the best thing that had ever happened to him, even though he'd needed some time to appreciate her.

Daphne got to her feet and reached her hand out to him to haul him up. 'Come on, we still have work to do.' She pointed with her chin to the destroyed cauldron that was still under a Stasis Charm.

'You want to find out what caused the explosion?' Harry asked and also got to his feet. 'I can tell you; I've watched her. She'd just added a vial of undiluted Bubotuber Pus when it happened.'

Daphne gasped and stopped in her tracks. 'A whole vial? No wonder the cauldron exploded in her face.' She shook her head. 'Let's go back to our office to write our report. Father will want to know about this.'

Five minutes later they were in their shared office. Harry volunteered to write the report for Cyrus, while Daphne had to document the final results of the recruitment tests and then had to write the three letters of acceptance to Hermione and the two men from the USA, and of course the letter of rejection to McLaggen.

They were still busy with that task when Cyrus walked in. He sat down on one of the visitor chairs.

'Much too comfortable,' he said and crossed his legs. 'Do you ever get rid of your obnoxious visitors?'

Harry looked up from his report. 'Eventually.' He grinned. 'Though, you are still here.'

'Cheeky brat,' Cyrus said, though it sounded amused. He made himself even more comfortable in the chair. 'I just had a visit from Director Pince. He's not happy with you two.'

Harry exchanged a look with his wife across their double desk.

'You seem not to be surprised,' Cyrus said.

Daphne shook her head. 'Not at all, Father. I think Pince seems to have a problem with Harry and me. You'll find everything in the documentation.'

Cyrus chuckled. 'I thought as much. Well, after today he'd know that the guard's about to change sooner or later. Hopefully that'll lead him to the right decision.'

Daphne cast Harry a pointed glance across the desk, the corners of her mouth upturned. She could as well have said "Told you so!" aloud.

She bent over the parchment in front of her and signed the last of her letters with a flourish. 'Ready; what about you, Harry?'

'Just a minute,' he said, and dried the ink on the last sheet of his report with a spell Hermione had taught him in their first year. 'There, all done.' He flicked his wand, the parchment rolled itself up, Levitated through the air and dropped into Cyrus' lap.

'I guess that's my cue that I've outstayed my welcome,' his father-in-law said. He picked up the roll of parchment from his lap and got to his feet. 'Will you come over for dinner tonight?'

Harry looked at his wife. 'Daphne?'

However, she shook her head. 'We need to visit Ms Clearwater tonight, and I want to give Hermione this.' She held up one of the letters of acceptance.

Cyrus chuckled. 'Do that. I bet she'll be over the moon. Tell her I'm very pleased to welcome her to our team.' He waved at them and left the office.

Harry and Daphne cleared their desks and left soon after him. About ten minutes later Harry stood in front of the star-struck receptionist of St Mungo's and asked for the number of Penelope's room.

'Yes, Mr Potter, o...of course, Mr Potter.' She looked up at him with wide eyes and a silly smile on her face.

'The number, please.' Harry suppressed a sigh.

The public adoration of his person had become worse during the five years since the Battle, especially among the female population. It didn't help his case that _Witch Weekly _published a lead article about him every other week, and had named him _"the hottest M.W." _since he'd joined the Wizengamot_._ Even though Daphne, Kingsley and Cyrus kept telling him that this kind of positive press also helped his agenda, it was embarrassing. However, he had learned to deal with it, as vexing and tiring as it was sometimes, and never to show his embarrassment or irritation.

He exhaled and took a look at the name tag at the uniform robe of the receptionist. 'Look, Kirsty, I've had a long day, and I need to make sure if Ms Clearwater is alright and has everything she needs. So, will you please give me the room number?'

Had she heard him? No, probably not; she still looked at him with that silly smile.

Daphne gently pushed him to the side. 'Let me try, honey.' She snapped her fingers right in front of the bedazzled receptionist. 'Can you hear me, Kristy? The room number, please.' Her voice was icy, and her face looked like a thundercloud.

Harry suppressed a grin. Daphne wouldn't admit it for all Galleons at Gringotts, but she had a jealous streak a mile wide and didn't like it at all when women admired him unabashedly.

Kirsty startled, as if yanked out of a pleasant daydream, and paled. 'Yes, Mrs Potter, just one moment, Mrs Potter.' She bent over the ledger in front of her and paged through it, with a nervous upward glance at Daphne every now and then. It didn't look as if she was making much headway; the poor girl seemed to be scared out of her mind by the dark look on Daphne's face.

He couldn't blame her; Daphne was scary when she put on Pureblood airs. The effect was enhanced by her sharp, dark blue Muggle pant suit and matching open robes, combined with a white blouse that still was as crisp as it had been when she'd dressed that morning.

Harry slid his arm around Daphne's waist and pulled her towards him. 'Give the poor girl some space, darling. You're scaring the shit out of her,' he whispered into her ear.

She melted against his side, turned her head and gave him a determined kiss. 'Good, that's exactly what I wanted.' There still was a dangerous gleam in her eyes.

The receptionist raised her head. 'Room twelve on the ground floor. It's in the Dilys Derwent ward.'

Daphne gave her a smile that showed a lot of teeth. 'Thank you very much.' She slid her arm around his waist and murmured something that sounded like "obnoxious fangirls", while she guided him towards the corridor that led to the ward.

He knew better than to comment on that. Instead, he bent towards her and gave her a small kiss on the temple, and she relaxed against him.

Penelope's room was the last one in the corridor, and she shared it with three other witches. When Harry and Daphne arrived, each eye in the room turned towards them. They greeted, but made a beeline to Penelope's bed in the leftmost corner of the room.

She looked much better than right after the accident. The swelling of her head seemed to have receded, and her skin seemed not to be that red anymore, though that was hard to tell since most of her head was wrapped in bandages.

'How are you, Ms Clearwater?' Daphne asked and patted the hand that laid on the blanket.

Penelope gave her a smile, though it looked strained. 'Better, really. The healer said it could've been much worse, but thanks to Harry's prompt reaction I was in hospital almost immediately after it happened, so the damage was reduced to a minimum, and I will be out of hospital by tomorrow morning.'

'I'm happy to hear that,' Daphne said, and gave Penelope's hand a squeeze. 'Though we try to keep them to a minimum, accidents happen. We keep Emergency Portkeys to St Mungo's in each laboratory for that worst case. Do you remember how it happened? If possible, we like to prevent future accidents by avoiding the oversights of the past.'

However, Penelope shook her head. 'It all happened so fast. I remember that I freaked out about the test; I'm rather apt at brewing, but analysis has never been my strong point. During the test I felt like I'd forgotten everything I'd ever learned. Must have been the stress, I guess.'

Harry and Daphne spent some more time visiting with Penelope, then bade their goodbyes.

From the Apparition Point at St Mungo's Harry Apparated them right into the backyard of Ron and Hermione's home.

The old, Victorian two-story house with gingerbread stucco at the gable had been in the Granger family for generations, and when Hermione Obliviated the memories of her parents and replaced them with the wish to leave for Australia as soon as possible, something in Andrew and Jean Granger had baulked against the idea of selling the house. Instead, they cleared the house and left it standing empty. Even though the Death Eaters paid a visit, they hadn't cause substantial damage.

When the war was over, and Hermione had restored the memories of her parents, the Grangers had decided not to return to England, and had given the old family home to Hermione. She and Ron had moved together there as soon as she had finished Hogwarts, and eventually made it into a home as warm and welcoming as _The Burrow._

As soon as the ward bell announced their Apparition, the backdoor to the kitchen flew open, and Hermione came out to greet them. Ron followed on her heels.

'Harry, Daphne? What brings you here, I didn't count on seeing you tonight.' She greeted them with her usual hug, but her eyes flicked between them, and a small frown marred her face.

Daphne pulled the envelope out of her purse and held it out to Hermione. 'I wanted to give you this in person.' Her broad smile almost split her face into halves.

Hermione stretched out a trembling hand to take the envelope. 'Is that …?'

'Why don't you open it and see for yourself?' Harry asked.

The next moment Hermione tore the envelope open, pulled out the letter, and read it with bulging eyes.

Harry put and arm around his wife's shoulder and exchanged a smirk with her.

Hermione's scream pierced the air. 'I've made it, I've made it; oh my god, Ron, I've made it!' She threw her arms around her husband, and he whirled her around, a broad smile on his face.

'Congratulations, love. I knew you'd be hired.' Ron bent down and kissed his wife.

Hermione turned around to Daphne and Harry and gave them another bone-crushing hug. 'Thank you so much. I hope I won't disappoint the faith you put in me.'

Daphne returned her hug. 'You don't have to thank us, Hermione, you've earned your place fair and square.'

'And I know you'll never disappoint us,' Harry said, and put a hand on Hermione's shoulder.

Hermione didn't answer, but her eyes looked rather bright.

Ron clapped into his hands. 'That calls for a celebration. What do you think?'

He led them into the bright kitchen that smelled heavenly of a stew that bubbled on the stove.

'Mmmh!' Daphne sniffed in the air.

'Have you not yet had dinner?' Ron asked, and stirred the stew.

Daphne shook her head, and pulled out one of the chairs around the kitchen table. 'There was no time for that yet. Harry and I visited Ms Clearwater at St Mungo's.'

Ron quirked an eyebrow at Harry. 'You didn't feed your wife and still live to tell the tale? Merlin, you love a dangerous life.' To the laughter of his wife and friends he lifted his wand, Summoned bowls and spoons, and set the table. Another flick Levitated the pot of stew and a loaf of bread to the table, while Hermione opened a bottle of wine the Muggle way.

They drank to Hermione's success, and then Ron ladled the delicious smelling stew into their bowls.

'I never would've thought you'd learn to cook one day, Ron.' Harry grinned at his friend.

Ron shrugged his shoulders. 'What else was I supposed to do? You know that Hermione is useless in a kitchen. I didn't want to starve, so I had to learn how to cook.'

'Apparently, being an excellent Potions Mistress doesn't translate to being a good cook, and vice versa,' Daphne said, and cast Harry a pointed look.

Harry grinned at her. 'If you say so, dearest wife.' He still took over the kitchen once in a while and prepared a meal for them, much to Kreacher's resentment.

'Be nice, children,' Hermione said, and took a sip of her wine. She put down her glass and turned to Daphne. 'There's something I need to tell you.' A small frown had appeared on her face.

Daphne stopped eating and placed her spoon in her bowl. 'Has it to do with today's test?'

Hermione worried her lower lip between her teeth and nodded. 'You know, six years of Potions together with Malfoy, and the last year at the Ministry has made me rather paranoid. I almost expect that someone tries to sabotage my potion, so putting up a semi-permanent shield around me with a low powered rune on my cauldron has become second nature to me.'

Harry straightened in his seat. Was Hermione implying - ?

'I did it today without even thinking about it,' she interrupted his train of thought. 'I think you need to know that at some point during the analysis I felt a Confundus Charm from behind being repelled by my shield.'

Daphne's eyes grew wide, and she exchanged a look with Harry.

The muscles in Harry's neck stiffened, and he pressed his lips together. 'When did that happen?'

'A couple of minutes before Penelope's cauldron exploded.'

He exchanged another long look with his wife. 'Penelope told us she felt as if she'd forgotten everything she ever learned during that test. You told me the bloke next to her looked as if he'd ran into a deadlock, and now Hermione tells us about a Confundus Charm thrown at her. That's too much of a coincidence for my taste.'

Daphne let out an unhappy sigh and rubbed her forehead with her hand. 'I'm afraid you're right, Harry. Even though I watched all the applicants, I didn't notice anything out of the order. Did you?"

He shook his head. 'Unfortunately, not. And I hesitate to blame someone without prove. However, my money is on McLaggen. He's always been a git.'

Ron's head shot up. 'McLaggen? Don't tell me you've hired the idiot.'

'Geez, calm down, Ron, we didn't,' Harry said.

However, that didn't stop his friend from recounting every bit he had heard about the horrendous match against Hufflepuff in their sixth year, and McLaggen's role in it.

The four friends laughed and talked until late into the night.

It wasn't before Harry lay next to his sleeping wife that night that it occurred to him that he still hadn't told her about his dinner with Ginny. His stomach squirmed. Damned, by now it was definitely too late to bring it up in a casual conversation. She'd never believe that it didn't mean that much to him, so he simply forgot about it.

He heaved a big sigh. No, he'd missed the right moment, and now it was better not to tell her. She'd never hear about that, anyway, so why worry her?


	6. Chapter 6

_ **London, July 2003** _

He hated surprises, and this constituted a surprise: the letter had been delivered by house elf, not by owl.

He took the envelope from the disgusting creature that was clad in an impeccable green linen pillowcase, and turned it in his hands, his eyebrows raised.

Damn, that was impressive. He hadn't counted on Potter's whore giving his living arrangements so much as a second thought; he'd expected her to send her letter by owl post and potentially violate the Statute of Secrecy while doing so.

However, she must have known by his address that he lived in an upscale Muggle area, and had taken precautions not to be found out by the Muggles. Only few wizards and witches would realise that the appearance of an owl during daytime in a Muggle area was bound to cause some curiosity at least, if not more. Even fewer would've thought of using a house elf to avoid that.

He pressed his lips together. It seemed Potter's whore was more intelligent than he gave her credit for. He'd need to take that into account in his future plans. Maybe he ought to get her out of the way first; without her support Potter might be easier to deal with; from Father's stories he knew the bastard wasn't the brightest candle in the chandelier.

He sat down on the luxurious leather chair in his study with view across Hyde Park and grabbed for the letter knife on the carved desk in front of him. It was an elegant tool with a snake's head with two emeralds for eyes, a heirloom from his father.

He opened the envelope and unfolded the single sheet of rich parchment.

A broad smile spread across his face. Yes, he'd made it! Now he had a foot inside of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products. He wouldn't be his father's son if he didn't find a way to dispose of Potter and his whore from there, not to mention the rest of the vermin that was considered his family.

It had been a lucky omen that Crystal Fairy Beauty Products was looking for potioneers just as he arrived in magical Britain. Of course, it had been a risk to send in his application. How many people still remembered Father and would recognise him? Thank Merlin, magic had an answer for everything, and he wasn't a skilled Potions Master for nothing. Changing his identity and obtaining the appropriate papers he needed for that had also been easy.

He cast a look at the ancient cabin trunk in his study. Muggles might think it an amusing idea for a bar, but a wizard knew that a good multi-compartment trunk could serve more than one purpose.

It hadn't been easy to get into Crystal Fairy's. The competition had been tough, but a few well placed Confundus Charms had taken care of that. However, that bushy-haired, over-achieving Mudblood had almost given him away. She'd placed a shield charm around herself, and his Confundus Charm had slid off before he realised what she had done. Thank Merlin she seemed to have been so preoccupied with her analysis that she didn't notice the attempt.

He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms behind his head, while the smile on his face became even broader.

Soon, very soon, he'd attend to Potter's funeral.

_t.b.c._


	7. Chapter 7

_ **London, Grimmauld Place, August 2003** _

Daphne's eyes were glued to the oblong Muggle contraption in her hands. She looked at the timer she'd conjured and put in front of her on the edge of the washbasin, while she perched on the side of the huge bathtub in the bathroom that adjoined her and Harry's bedroom. The two minutes until the result showed should already be up, shouldn't they? She looked at the window and scowled, the damn contraption was probably broken - no, still almost sixty seconds to go. She deflated, and her shoulders sagged.

She and Harry had spent the last two weeks in France; one week in Paris in celebration of their fifth wedding anniversary, and another week at a romantic villa in Normandy. Harry had planned this trip without telling her, and she had been whisked away. It had been such an unexpected and romantic gesture from him, he'd spoiled her rotten, and these two weeks were the happiest they'd ever been together.

However, during the last few days of their trip she had begun suspecting she might be -.

Her eyes returned to the small display field right above the tip of the contraption as if drawn by a magnet. It was as blank as a sheet of parchment. And still fifty seconds to go.

She'd been less than enthusiastic when Hermione and even Fleur had told her about this special Muggle invention, but Fleur had insisted it was the most accurate and less invasive way to obtain the knowledge she sought for at an early date. _You don't want to disturb a delicate little flower with the power of a spell, _she'd told her, and she'd bowed to her wisdom. Fleur knew what she was talking about.

Thirty more seconds to go. Her heartbeat increased. Please, Circe …

A faint mark appeared in the middle of the display field, then grew stronger, like a Patronus materialising out of a silver mist into its corporeal form.

Her heart boomed in her ears. Was that the positive mark? She compared the sign on the display field with the directions that came with that Muggle contraption. Oh, Circe, yes, it was!

'Yes!' Daphne sprang up from the edge of the bathtub, a huge smile on her face, and thrust both arms in the air, one hand still clutched around the Muggle contraption. The next moment she yanked the door open and ran down to the family room.

Harry looked up from the newspaper he was reading as she burst into the room. 'Good morning, Daph. What has you so -'

She didn't let him finish his sentence, plopped down in his lap, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him deeply.

His eyes were somewhat glazed over when she finished the kiss, but he shot her a broad grin while he tightened his arms around her. 'Not that I'm complaining, but to what do I owe this special treatment?'

Instead of an answer, she held the Muggle contraption under his nose.

'What's that?' he asked, grabbed for the strange thing and studied it, his eyebrows knitted together in a small frown.

'That, dearest husband, is a Muggle pregnancy test.'

His head jerked up, and he stared at her for a long moment, mouth agape. His eyes flickered back to the device in his hand and concentrated on the display field. His breath caught, and he bit his lower lip. When he looked at her again, the trembling, little smile around his lips indicated his comprehension of the momentous news she was telling him, and his hesitation to believe his biggest dream was finally coming true.

'Does it -' He cleared his throat. 'Does it say what I think it says?' he asked, and the smile on his face became stronger.

She leaned her forehead against his. Blue eyes smiled into emerald green, and she ran her hand through the silken hair at the back of his neck.

'Yes, you're going to become a daddy. If I did the math right, by next April it'll be a lot noisier around here.'

He made a strange, choked little sound, and the next moment he kissed her with a tenderness that made her tremble in his arms.

Tears of joy pooled behind her closed eyes, and trickled down her cheeks. They'd become incredible close ever since she'd decided to throw her fears and secret reservations about his stance to their relationship over board, and dedicate herself completely to whatever there was between them. Though he'd never said he loved her in all these years, he'd also never given her reason to think he wasn't as dedicated to their marriage as she was. His kiss said everything he didn't say aloud: she was the mother of his child, and for that he was going to cherish and treasure her forever.

Harry broke their kiss and leaned back, a frown on his face.

'Why are you crying?' he asked, cupped her face in his hands and brushed away the tears with the pads of his thumbs.

Her breath caught. Could she finally dare to tell him how she felt?

_Harry wouldn't know love if it bit him in the nose._

Hermione's words, spoken on a cold December day so long ago, rose from the depth of her memory. Had he learned to understand the concept of love after five years living with her? She had no idea, just as Hermione had predicted that day, he never talked about his feelings for her. No, she'd better stick to the resolve she'd made that Christmas Day, relish what she had, and give him the time to figure things out on his own. Though, after five years he by now should have an idea about his feelings for her ...

No, she'd better not delve into the murky depths that were Harry's emotions. Even though the _Le Renouvellement _Potion had done wonders to help him deal with the repercussions of his upbringing and the terrors he had seen, it hadn't managed to give him the emotional equipment he should have picked up in a normal home. He still had a long way to go.

She shrugged. 'I don't know. I'm so happy.'

He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers in a butterfly kiss. 'So am I.' He cradled her in his arms, her head tucked under his chin, and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. 'So, we brought back a souvenir from Paris with us?' A low chuckle rumbled in his chest.

She joined his laughter. 'I told you before, and I'll tell you again, the surprise trip to Paris to celebrate our fifth wedding anniversary was the best idea you ever had.'

'Not to mention that Fleur was pleased with us finally doing all the things she told us about when she and Bill visited us during our honeymoon,' Harry said.

Daphne made herself more comfortable in his arms. 'Remember the boat we took on the Seine at dusk to see the illuminated city? It was magical, wasn't it?'

'Yeah, and so was our dinner on the Eiffel Tower,' Harry said.

'Though, you have to promise me one thing,' Daphne said, and tilted back her head to look him into the eyes.

He raised his eyebrows at her.

'This baby is not going to be named Paris, neither as first name nor as middle name.'

Harry scrunched up his nose. 'Paris? How wacky is that?' He bowed his head and gave her a small kiss. 'That's something I can easily agree to.'

* * *

They spent the rest of the weekend spinning daydreams, weaving dreams and making plans. Monday and their return to their jobs at Crystal Fairy's came much too soon.

Harry insisted to take the car instead of Apparating to the magical part of the company and maybe risk Splinching herself or the baby, and Daphne relented with an indulgent smile. He'd always been an attentive husband, but ever since she'd told him about her pregnancy he practically carried her on his hands. It was nice, and she knew how to put a stop to it if he became overbearing, but for the time being she relished getting pampered.

Lisa greeted them from behind her desk with raised eyebrows and a broad smile when they walked into her outer office in front of their shared office in the Muggle part of headquarters hand in hand. 'My, you two look as if you've had the time of your life in France.'

Harry and Daphne shared a look and a secretive smile. 'We had,' they said unison.

Lisa winked at Daphne. 'You'll have to tell me about that at lunch, and in turn I'll tell you everything about the bliss of changing nappies that are full to the brim. Merlin, I'm glad you agreed to let me work part time and share my job with Fleur. I love little Dickie to bits, but I'm not made to be a mother-hen twenty-four/seven.' She didn't wait for a response and gathered the papers in front of her. 'I'm sorry to tell you that you'll have to lead a delegation from magical U.S.A. through the Potions Department this morning. Cyrus made the appointment just before he left for his own holidays last Friday.'

'In the full knowledge that we'll have to do it,' Harry said, and took the papers from her. 'I'll have to think of something to get even with him.'

The two women snorted at that.

'I doubt that'll overtax your imagination, honey,' Daphne said.

Harry looked up from the papers in his hands and flashed both of them a grin. 'I suppose you're right. Anything else we need to know, Lisa?'

She motioned with her hand into the direction of their shared office. 'It's all on your desk, in neat stacks.'

'I was afraid you'd say that.' Harry rolled his eyes and held the door to their shared office open for Daphne. They had, like Cyrus, an office in the Muggle part of headquarters, because they were more frequently needed in the Muggle departments of the company. However, all three of them employed witches who knew their way in the Muggle world in their front office.

Lisa hadn't exaggerated, from each of the two desks several stacks of mail greeted them. They exchanged a small, regretful smile and set to work. Over the next hour, they hardly said a word, while they both tried to get an overview of what happened in their respective area of responsibility while they were away.

Daphne was not yet half through her mail when the phone on Harry's desk rang.

He answered the call. 'Alright, we'll be there in a minute,' he said, and ended the call. He got to his feet and opened the door to the closed wardrobe where they kept their open business robes. 'The delegation from the USA has arrived,' he told her over his shoulder, and pulled out a robe for himself.

Daphne nodded and put the report she was just reading back on her desk. With a little luck she'd be able to get back at it this afternoon. She let out a sigh. Why did Father have to burden them with foreign visitors on the day of their return? He should've known they'd be buried with work. She got up from her chair and slipped into the robes Harry held out for her.

Instead of pulling back his hands after he had helped her into her robes, he put them on her shoulders and turned her around. His eyes scanned her face. 'Are you alright, darling?'

She slipped her arms around his waist and pulled him towards her. 'I'm fine, honey. No sign of morning sickness yet. Stop worrying, this visit won't kill me.'

His cheeks flushed, and he turned away his eyes with a small cough. 'If you say so.'

Daphne suppressed a smile. He worried about her and was embarrassed that she'd noticed. How cute was that? She raised her hand, turned his face towards her and got on her tiptoes to give him a small kiss. 'I promise I'll take it slow and let you know when I have enough. I'll leave it up to you to find a proper excuse for me then. Is that enough to prevent you from fretting?'

He laughed. 'Yes … Yes, it is,' he said, and returned her kiss.

They left their office through a door under heavy Muggle-Repelling-Charms that lead to a corridor in the magical part of headquarters. From there it were only a few steps to the conference room where Director Pince awaited them with the delegation from the USA.

The delegation consisted of a woman and two men.

Daphne stopped in her tracks when Harry opened the door to the conference room for her, and her gaze fell on auburn hair and electric blue eyes. 'Isn't that -' she whispered to Harry.

He peeked into the room over her head. 'Elias Frudge,' he finished for her.

The hairs on the back of her head lifted. She bit her lips and shoved her hands into the pockets of her robes. What was the bitch's former husband doing at Crystal Fairy?

Director Pince made the necessary introductions. The other witch and wizard turned out to be the Crogans, business partners of Elias Frudge. Together, they owned a chain of potion labs throughout the USA, and Cyrus had been in negotiations with them quite some time about a possible partnership.

'I can see the advantages of producing in the USA,' Harry said as they had settled down around the conference table, cups of coffee or tea in front of them. 'Quite a lot of our Beauty Potions have a short pull-date, so we refrain from exporting them. Others are sensitive to magical shipping and can't be exported, either. I'm sure it'll be beneficial to both of our companies to come to an agreement. However, we demand a certain standard of the laboratories we use to brew our potions. Some people might think Beauty Potions frills, but I've come to learn that they require as much caution and attention when brewed as Healing Potions, or the consequences can be dire. It is my understanding that you've come to see our laboratory today to find out more about possible changes you'd need to make in your laboratories if we come to an agreement?'

John Crogan nodded to that and cleared his throat. 'You're right, Mr Potter. I think you'll understand that a future cooperation with Crystal Fairy Beauty Products is only beneficial to our company if the amount of gold we'll have to invest to make the necessary changes to our laboratories isn't too big.'

Harry inclined his head. 'Of course. Director Pince can tell you everything about the technical details. I think it's best he'll give us an overview before we visit the experimental laboratory here at headquarters, and after that the laboratory in Godric's Hollow where the potions for Magical Britain are brewed.' He motioned with his hand towards Director Pince.

Director Pince took the cue, cleared his throat, and launched into a very detailed and very dry explanation of the setup of their laboratories.

Daphne was familiar with the matter, so she listened with only half an ear to his explanations while she squirmed in her seat beside Harry. As always during meetings, he'd opted for a coffee, and the fragrance that wafted over to her from his cup made her stomach roil. Since when smelled coffee that disgusting? She gulped down the bile that raised in her throat and shifted in her seat, while she stared at the offending cup, unable to concentrate on anything else. If she sprinted to the door right now, would she make it out of the room or throw up on the floor right in front of the visitors?

Her fidgeting caught Harry's attention; he shot her a short side glance, his eyes flicked between her face and his cup, and an understanding smile flitted across his face. The next moment he had his features schooled back into the bland face, appropriate to listen to Pince's explanations. He slipped his right hand under the table and made a small movement.

The nauseating smell stopped.

Daphne breathed out. Whatever he'd done to his cup, it had prevented her from embarrassing herself.

He gave her another side glance, and the corners of his mouth quirked up in a small smile. The next moment, his attention was back on Pince.

It seemed to take an eternity, but finally Pince came to an end with his explanations, and they all rose to walk to the laboratories. Pince led the way, their guests followed, and she and Harry brought up the rear.

She took the opportunity and cast a Privacy Charm around them. 'Thank you for whatever you did to your coffee cup, honey. I was that close to throwing up.'

Harry chuckled in response. His hand brushed against hers, and he gave her a smile that made her breath hitch. 'That was obvious,' he said. 'I didn't want to give Pince another reason to complain about us to your father.'

Daphne snorted, but before she could respond, Elias Frudge let himself fall back behind the Crogans, obviously he wanted to talk to Harry and her. She cancelled the Privacy Charm.

'I'm happy to see you again, Harry and Daphne. We hadn't much time to talk on that Christmas a couple of years ago,' he said.

She gave him a polite smile. 'Well, there's never much room or time for a quiet talk at a Weasley family gathering.'

He sighed in response. 'So I've been told, but I never had the time to find out. I suppose you know that Ginny's and my marriage didn't last long.'

'We do; I'm very sorry about that.' She cast a quick glance at Harry from under her eyelashes. How did he take a talk about the bitch?

His face was calm, and a polite smile played around his lips. He'd become quite apt in guarding his feelings; impossible to tell if the talk about the bitch was troubling him.

An ugly sneer appeared on Elias' face at her words. 'I won't deny that I was heartbroken when she first left me. I really thought we had something special. However, after the way she fleeced me in our separation settlement, I'm not so sure about that anymore. Gold digging little skank!'

Beside her, Harry startled; he lowered his head and fiddled with the upper button of his robes, but didn't respond to Elias' bitter words.

Daphne's stomach gave a sudden, hard lurch. Damned, after all these years Elias bad-mouthing the Weaselette still had the power to get to Harry. Would he ever be truly over the girl?

She suppressed a sigh, cast her eyes to the floor and smoothed down the front of her robes. Elias' bitter remark about the Weaselette was probably true, given that there was evidence she'd cheated on Harry while she was his official girlfriend. But how to respond to that without affronting their guest and hurting Harry even more?

Director Pince relieved her of her dilemma. They had reached the Department for Magical Research and Development, and he began the next round of explanations.

'Here near the entrance we have the secretarial pool, with the offices of the potioneers adjoining.' He motioned with his hand to three women at desks who were busily scribbling away. Three doors each at the left and the right of the room apparently led to the other offices.

He beckoned them to follow him down a corridor. 'To the left and the right are storage rooms and rooms for the assistants to prepare ingredients or simple basic potions.' He opened one door and showed them rows of rows of perfectly shelved and labelled potion ingredients. Behind a steel door that was also secured by a ward similar to those used at the high security vaults at Gringotts and had to be disabled by Director Pince were the dangerous or rare and expensive ingredients.

The Crogans and Elias craned their necks, and seemed to be rather impressed by the precautions.

Director Pince lead them further down the corridor. Through glass doors they got glimpses of about a dozen of women in small cubicles, cutting ingredients or brewing potions.

At the end of the corridor, overlooking the laboratory, were two large glass cubicles to the left and the right, each one furnished with a long conference table and chairs, and a chalkboard on the solid wall.

'These are our conference rooms. Developing a new beauty product is teamwork, and after each step the team that works on a new product gets together and compares notes.' Director Pince pointed at two wizards in the cubicle closest to the laboratory, who had their heads bent over a ledger.

'Of course, it's all strictly confidential. All I can tell you is that Mr Abbott and Mr Pyke are working on a new shampoo dealing with dandruff. We've discovered that animal venom and poison leads to excellent results, however, we still have to determine which is the best, and to find a way to disable the poisonous properties without watering down the effects. Unthinkable if a wizard or witch is being poisoned through a small wound on their scalp while washing their hair!' He let out a small laugh.

The visitors looked at each other and shuddered.

Daphne didn't blame them, the thought of a possibly lethal poison in your shampoo wasn't very appealing.

At last, they came to the laboratory.

Five work tables were set up behind each other. The first two tables were empty, but the cauldrons under a Stasis Charm and the leftover ingredients on the tables indicated that they were the workplaces of Abbott and Pyke who had interrupted their work to discuss their findings.

Hermione had her workplace right behind them. At the entrance of the visitors she looked up, and gave them a nod and a small smile in greeting, but concentrated back on her cauldron immediately.

Cadwallader and Williams had the workplaces behind her. They also gave them a short greeting and then returned to their work.

'Mrs Weasley-Granger, Mr Cadwallader and Mr Williams are working on a new potion that is supposed to give straight hair a permanent curl,' Director Pince explained. He motioned them to gather in front of Cadwallader's cauldron, and explained the potion he was brewing, and how his approach differed from Williams' and Hermione's approach.

Strange smelling fumes emitted from Cadwallader's cauldron, and Daphne's stomach squirmed again. She had to get away from here. Without attracting attention to herself she stepped away from Cadwallader's workplace.

Of course, Harry noticed. His head turned around, and he looked at her with furrowed eyebrows.

She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile, though it wasn't easy with her squirming stomach, and walked around Hermione's workplace until she stood in front of her cauldron. At least Hermione's cauldron emitted a fragrance of peppermint and lemons.

Hermione looked up from the Alihotsy leaves she was chopping. 'Just one moment, Daphne, I'll have to add the last ingredient, and then we'll have some time to talk while the potion simmers and Pince is still busy with the visitors.'

Daphne nodded and leaned against the table while Hermione worked. As if drawn by an invisible magnet, her eyes returned to Harry. He stood beside Elias, tall and proud, and incredibly handsome in dark blue robes of Acrumantula silk over a Muggle suit that fitted him like a second skin. Her stomach made a little flip-flop, and a smile spread over her face.

A soft giggle brought her back to reality. 'You're so smitten with your own husband,' Hermione said over the chopping noises of her silver knife.

Daphne glared at her. 'Pot. Kettle. Black.'

Hermione grinned, but was smart enough not to press her point.

Daphne's gaze returned to Harry. How would he be as a dad? Would the bad experiences of his childhood make him an overly indulgent parent? Maybe, but she would be there to outbalance him.

As if he felt her gaze on himself, Harry turned around and gave her a small smile behind the backs of Pince and their visitors. Their eyes locked, and warmth spread in her chest.

The chopping noise of Hermione's silver knife stopped. 'I'm now adding the Alihotsy leaves. You may want to close your eyes to shield them from the smoke that's going to come out of the cauldron.' Her voice seemed to come from far away.

Her eyes still locked with Harry's, she nodded. The backs of Pince and their visitors were turned to her, and Cadwallader and Williams were occupied with their own work, so she dared to blow him a small kiss, and closed her eyes.

Hermione sniggered. The next moment there was a hissing sound as the chopped Alihotsy leaves hit the surface of the potion.

_BOOM!_

A torrent of scalding hot potion splashed right onto her chest, soaked her clothes and burnt her skin.

Hot pain seared through her body. Her eyes opened wide, she screamed and clapped her hands in front of her chest in an belated attempt to shield herself from the exploding potion. The next second the palms of her hands burned as if the skin had peeled off and left nothing but raw flesh.

She broke out in cold sweat, her heartbeat raced, and the world seemed to turn around her, faster and faster. Her knees buckled, and she screamed again.

Strong arms around her shoulders caught her before she crashed to the ground.

'Daphne, darling, can you hear me?'

Harry. His eyes, black with worry, brought her somewhat to reality. The spinning world became slower.

'You're in shock, darling. I'll help you lay down, and then I'll take you to St Mungo's by Portkey.'

She nodded and let out a whimper as he lowered her to the ground. His eyes never left her face, and his chin was set in a taut line.

As soon as she lay on the ground, each muscle in her body cramped. Her spine arched in an impossible angle, hurting even more than the hot potion on her chest and her hands, and threatening to break her into halves.

'Daphne!'

Harry's voice again, this time full of concern and panic.

The seizure lasted only for a few seconds, seconds that had seemed like eternities.

Harry's eyes were glued to her face; he had pulled out his wand and fastened a Portkey to her robes. He was as pale as a ghost, but managed a small smile. 'Don't worry, darling, you'll be at St Mungo's in a second, and everything is going to be alright.'

There was something she had to tell him, something very important. 'Harry, I …'

The next moment, her throat constricted. She tried to breathe, but her windpipe seemed to be closed off, and she managed nothing but a laboured gasp. The world ceased to exist, and everything went black.

_t.b.c._


	8. Chapter 8

** _Crystal Fairy Laboratories, August 2003_ **

_BOOM!_

It was the sweetest and most beautiful sound he'd ever heard.

The potion erupted from the Mudblood's cauldron in a wave that crested a good two feet above the bench top before gravity asserted its control and it arced downwards, covering Potter's whore in horrible smelling goo.

Pince and his visitors whirled around and gasped. Their gasps were drowned out by a scream of pain from Potter's whore.

She was a sight to behold: the front of her robes was soaked in the acidic smelling, muddy potion that slowly burnt through her clothes and skin, and her pretty doll face was contorted in pain.

He suppressed the victorious laughter that welled up in him. She'd be in even more pain until this was over. It would be a delight to watch her suffer and die a slow, painful death. He stifled a giggle; she really was dumb enough to clutch her hands in front of her chest. The acid, highly poisonous potion he'd created by simply swapping one ingredient with a silent and wandless Switching Spell at once blistered through the skin of her tender Pureblood hands. She swayed, beads of sweat pooled on her forehead, and she screamed again as her knees buckled under her, and she threatened to crash to the ground.

A sneer almost broke through and on to his carefully controlled face as the ridiculously devoted husband of hers had ran towards her the moment the explosion happened. Of course, he'd been the only one of the visitor's group who hadn't trained his attention on Pince; instead he'd been making eyes at his whore. Their public displays of affection had been nauseating, but it also had enabled him to cast the Switching Spell without anyone noticing. The selection of snake, frog and blue ringed octopus venom the morons Abbott and Pyke had left openly on their workplaces when they went into the conference room came in handy. It had been a spur of a moment decision to attack, but the opportunity had been to good to be missed.

He watched Potter from under his eyelids. He'd reached his whore and caught her in his arms.

'Daphne, darling, can you hear me?'

That man had no decorum. Oh, well, he probably shouldn't expect anything else from a Halfblood. At least his expression was something he'd remember and entertain himself with for a long time to come.

Potter's face was as white as a sheet of that cheap Muggle paper, a small sheen of sweat was visible on his upper lip, and he shook like the leave of a trembling poplar.

'You're in shock, darling. I'll help you lay down, and then I'll take you to St Mungo's by Portkey.'

He almost gagged, how touching. The whore nodded and whimpered in the most amusing way as Potter lowered her to the ground.

Pince, the visitors, and his colleague had all gathered around Potter and his whore, gasping, or offering useless advice; Abbott and Pyke had rushed out of the conference room and joined the Greek chorus of this comedy, and even the moronic assistants who barely knew how to hold a potions knife crowded in the door to the corridor.

Of course he'd had to join the curious onlookers, anything else would have caused suspicion. He also had a first row view on the mortal agony of the whore that way. The whore would be dead before she reached St. Mungo's, they'd never find out in time that the harmless Beauty Potion the Mudblood had been working on was poisonous.

Speaking of the Mudblood, where was she? The company rumour mill and _The Daily Prophet _said she was best friends with Potter and his whore, so shouldn't she be next to them and wring her hands in despair, especially since she had been so foolish to cause the lethal accident?

He turned his head. The Mudblood still was at her workplace, her bushy head bent over a sheet of parchment, and her eyebrows knitted together as she concentrated on what seemed to be a system of complex Arithmancy equations, her quill scribbling furiously.

A groan from the whore diverted his attraction from the Mudblood. The whore seizured; her spine arched in an impossible angle, and her face contorted in a pain that must be unbearable. Brilliant, the poison worked just as it was supposed to.

'Daphne!'

Potter again. Gods, the man was so pathetic. He suppressed a snigger.

The seizure ended much too soon.

Potter's eyes were glued to the whore's face, he pulled out his wand and fastened a Portkey to her robes. He was as pale as a ghost, but managed a small smile, probably to comfort the whore. 'Don't worry, darling, you'll be at St Mungo's in a second, and everything is going to be alright.'

The next moment, the whore let out a gurgling sound. Of course, by now the poison should be beginning to paralyse her diaphragm. It would only be a matter of seconds from now on, and Potter could go shopping for mourning robes. The eyes of the whore rolled back into her head.

'DAPHNE!'

Potter's panicked voice was music in his ears. He'd never be able to get her to St. Mungo's in time. A warm feeling of success spread in his stomach.

'Harry! It's a poison!'

His head whirled around. What business had the Mudblood to meddle in his affairs?

The Mudblood looked at Potter, waving the sheet of parchment in her hand.

He cursed his oversight; she was of course a brilliant Potions Mistress, as he'd found out in the few weeks they worked together, of course she would realise that something had to be seriously amiss to cause that violent reaction, and would go over the steps she'd made to find out where she'd made a mistake. He cursed himself under his breath, he hadn't counted on her keeping a level head when one of her best friends was dying and do the Arithmancy right now. He'd thought she wouldn't realise the beauty potion had been turned into an highly effective poison before it was too late. It didn't matter, it was already too late for the whore, they'd never find out the antidote in time.

Potter's head jerked up. His mouth was pressed in a thin line. The next moment a small object soared through the air, Potter snatched it with his hand before it hit him, and forced it down the whore's throat.

He suppressed the groan that threatened to escape his lips. His body tensed until his muscles quivered, and he gritted his teeth. This was a potions laboratory, they worked with dangerous and sometimes poisonous ingredients, and accidents had to happen occasionally. He should have known they'd keep a Bezoar somewhere, as security and health conscious as this company was.

Damn, Potter had Summoned the Bezoar silently and without a wand, so he hadn't even stood a chance to prevent Potter from saving the whore. That was impressive; he ought to be on his guard when he went after the upstart.

Potter's whore took a deep, shuddering breath.

Double damn it, the Bezoar had saved her, literally at the last second. He clenched his fists in the folds of his robes and bit on his lips to prevent himself from screaming in frustration.

Potter looked down on his whore; his shoulders slumped, and he let out a deep breath.

'She should be alright until we reach St. Mungo's.' He looked up, his eyes searched for the Mudblood. 'Hermione, you'd better come with me. The healer -'

'- will want to know what kind of potion I've been working on, and needs a sample to brew the antidote.' The Mudblood finished the sentence for Potter and walked around her workplace towards him, a sealed vial with a dark liquid in her hand.

Potter smiled, though his smile didn't reach his eyes. 'Merlin bless you, Hermione, as always you're one step ahead of me.'

'I told you I'll always have your back,' the Mudblood said, and put a finger on the Portkey Potter had fastened to the whore's robes. 'You'd better take us to St. Mungo's right now, Harry.'

Potter nodded, slipped out his wand and touched the Portkey.

The Portkey glowed blue, and the next second Potter, the whore and the Mudblood were gone.

_t.b.c._


	9. Chapter 9

_ **St. Mungo's, August 2003** _

She floated in a warm and dark place. Ahead of her, was a bright light; she had to go there, she'd be forever safe and happy there. She had no idea how she knew that, but it was an absolute certainty deeply ingrained to her soul.

She tried to move towards the light, but something held her back, invisible strings that still tied her to the place she had come from. No, she didn't want to return, there was pain there, she wanted to move on … had to move on.

Daphne yanked at the invisible strings, once, twice - however, they wouldn't budge. She sighed. Seemed she was stuck in between wherever she came from and the wonderful light. At least it was warm here, and there was no pain. Eventually whatever or whoever held her back would become tired of it; they would let go and she could move on.

She closed her eyes and surrendered herself to the warm darkness and quietness that surrounded her. Warmth and eternal quietness ...

The soft rustle of the evening wind in the leaves of a tree reached her ears. However, not even a small breath of air touched her skin.

She opened her eyes. The darkness still surrounded her, like before, but it seemed to have changed, become lighter, like the sky above the horizon before the sun rose.

There was a soft sound in the air - the song of the lark in the morning? She strained her ears. She'd always loved the concert of the birds in the early summer mornings, it would be nice to listen to them one more time and while away the time until she could move on.

The sound became louder, more distinctive. No, it wasn't birdsong, it was a human voice … a familiar voice. Her heart skipped a beat. She knew that voice; it was the voice of someone she loved, someone who meant everything to her …

So, this held her back. The voice - it didn't want to let her go. It called to her, pleaded with her to come back.

She sighed; she didn't want to go back. It was so peaceful here, and wherever she was going to go next after she would've moved on from this place would be even better.

The voice became louder, insistent … desperate.

A face flashed in her mind's eye, and her breath hitched in her throat. How could she have forgotten about him? She'd miss the owner of this voice; wherever she was supposed to be going to, she wouldn't be happy there until she had found his voice again.

She turned away from the beckoning light and looked back on the path she'd come from. It looked dark and narrow and arduous - but who awaited her at the end would be worth all the trouble.

With another sigh, she began the long journey back.

* * *

The next time she opened her eyes, the golden light of a shaded lamp blinded her. She lay flat on her back on a soft surface. The air smelled strange, a mixture of herbs and disinfectants. A hospital bed, then. How had she got here?

Her hand was cupped between two hands, in a tender, yet firm grip. A male voice murmured into her ear. She let out a small groan, closed her eyes again and breathed out. At least the faint, red glow behind her eyelids was bearable.

'Daphne!' The voice sounded choked, clothes rustled, and one hand let go of her hand and cupped her cheek the next second. 'Look at me, darling, come back to me.'

Harry! She opened her eyes once again.

He bent over her, his face was so close she could count each stubble on his chin and cheeks. His eyes, bloodshot and dull, bored into hers.

Why did he look so heartbroken? She tried to raise her hand to caress his cheek, give him the reassurance he so obviously needed, but her body refused to obey the command of her brain. All she could do was giving him a small, tremulous smile.

Tears flooded his eyes. He tried to blink them away and failed miserably, only succeeding in giving her a wet smile instead. 'Thank Merlin! I thought I had lost you.' His voice choked, and he slumped over her and buried his head at her shoulder.

Was he crying? Probably. Again, she tried to raise her arms. This time, her body obeyed, though her arms seemed to weigh a ton each as she put them around Harry in a clumsy embrace.

The soft, familiar tingle of his distress permeated her body, followed by a flood of warmth that made her heart glow. She smiled; it had been the right decision to come back to him, eternity would have been a damned lonesome place without him.

He raised his head and looked at her. His eyes were dry, though much redder than before. 'How are you feeling?' His voice was cracking, as though he he had been speaking non stop for days; he straightened into a sitting position and brushed a strand of hair out of her face with gentle fingertips.

She allowed her arms to drop back to the bed. How was she feeling? That was a good question. Maybe it was time to take stock of her body.

Her gaze fell on her arms that lay beside her body. Her hands were wrapped in thick bandages. Underneath them, the skin itched and felt tight as though it were stretched. More bandages seemed to be wrapped around her chest, and the skin there was itchy and tender. Worst of all, however, were the cramps in her abdomen. It seemed as if her period had set in, with at least thrice the force it usually had.

She knitted her eyebrows together. She wasn't supposed to have her period right now, not after she'd just found out -

Daphne gasped, ice spread from her heart all over her body. She put her hands on her abdomen. 'My baby! What happened to my baby?'

Harry bent forward and took her in his arms. He held her in a tight grip, and his voice sounded hoarse when he spoke. 'You had an … accident, darling. You barely survived. The baby … didn't.'

She shook her head against his shoulder. 'No … no, that can't be true!'

He tightened his grip around her and dropped a kiss on her head. 'Unfortunately, it is,' he whispered into her hair.

A pain like she'd never known before seared through her body, as if somebody was yanking her heart out to stab it, only to plunge it back into her chest cavity and do it all over again. She closed her eyes. Hot tears welled up behind her eyelids, and the next moment she sobbed into his shoulder.

She had no idea how long she cried, wrapped in the comfort of Harry's arms. He caressed her back and murmured soothing words of comfort, while his tears trickled into her hair.

She cried until there were no more tears, then extricated herself from his embrace, laid back into the crisp, white pillow of the hospital bed and grabbed his hand between her bandaged hands.

'What happened?'

'You don't have any memories?'

She shook her head. 'The last thing I remember is arriving at headquarters for our first day of work. I think Lisa said something about visitors Father had scheduled for … when was that?'

'Three days ago, on Monday,' Harry said.

Daphne held her breath. So, she'd been unconscious for more almost three whole days? Harry's rumpled appearance lent credence to that. He wore the clothes he'd worn on Monday, though his robes, suit jacket and tie were missing, and he looked as if he hadn't left her side since then, hollow-eyed, unshaved, and as pale as a ghost.

Her chest tightened. She shifted in her bed and bit her lip. She surely had put him through the wringer. That was the last thing he deserved, after all that he'd been through.

'Well, we took the visitors on a tour through the laboratory. Pince led us to the workplace of one of the new potioneers and explained what he was doing, but you couldn't cope with the smell that was being emitted from his cauldron.' Harry looked away, paused, took a sip of water from a glass on the bedside table, and cleared his throat.

After a few seconds he turned his head back. 'You went over to Hermione's workplace. She was in the last stages of brewing a test potion. When she added the chopped Alihotsy leaves, the potion in her cauldron exploded and covered the front of your robes. Something was strange about that potion, it burned through your robes and skin. That shouldn't have been possible, even I know that the Alihotsy leaves couldn't have caused that reaction.'

Again, he paused, and took a deep breath before he went on. 'You were in severe pain. I tried to get you to St Mungo's, but you had a seizure, and the next moment you stopped breathing.' He bent down and put his arms around her as if she was precious and breakable. 'That was the moment I thought I had lost you.'

'Since I'm still very alive, I guess you saved me,' she said, in an attempt to lighten his mood.

'Hermione did.' Harry pulled away from her and straightened. 'She was incredible. She at once realised that her potion shouldn't have reacted like that to the Alihotsy leaves, and did the Arithmancy equations to find out what had happened. She discovered that the potion had somehow turned into a deadly poison, just in time to save you.'

'She Summoned a Bezoar, I guess?'

'I did,' Harry said. 'I forced it down your throat and then Portkeyed you to St Mungo's, together with Hermione. She'd bottled a sample of the poison and helped the healers to brew the antidote.'

She smiled at him. 'I knew you'd turn out to have been the one who saved me. I suppose without the Bezoar I'd be dead by now?'

A dark shadow went across his face, and he nodded.

She put her hand on his arm. 'Don't think about it, honey. I survived, and that's all that counts.'

Harry took a deep, shuddering breath. 'Yeah, you survived, but at what cost! The healer told me that the antidote they brewed has abortive properties. But there was no other way to restore your health; the Bezoar had barely kept you alive, and even with the antidote it was touch and go for a while.'

He sprung up from his chair and paced the room. 'I still have no idea what happened, but I know that Hermione's potion didn't turn into a poison on its own accord or because of a mistake she made.' He stopped and whirled around to her. 'So, that only leaves the conclusion that someone messed with her potion. During the last two days I asked myself over and over again who was the intended victim - Hermione … or you?'

He trembled, and his hands were clenched into fists so that the knuckles stood out white.

Her heart broke at the sight of the unmasked fear on his face. She held out her arms to him.

'Come here, honey.'

He didn't hesitate, and she still held him when the door opened and someone cleared their throat.

Harry straightened and turned around. 'Healer Payne,' he greeted the man who had entered the room.

Healer Payne stepped to her bed and looked down at her. 'Good morning, Mrs Potter. I'm glad to see you're awake. How are you feeling?'

Daphne grimaced. 'Sore.'

'I imagine,' Healer Payne said, sympathy shining in his eyes. 'That was to be expected after the massive burn you suffered, although the poisoning was much worse. Mr Potter informed me about … your condition. I'm terribly sorry -'

She held up her hand to stop him. 'Harry already told me.' Something caught in her throat, and she couldn't go on.

Healer Payne gave her a soft smile, full of understanding, and patted her hand. 'It pains me that the treatment we gave you terminated your pregnancy, but as it is, we were barely able to save you.' He took a deep breath and pulled out his wand. 'Let me give you what is hopefully a final examination; if your skin has healed as it should, there's no reason to keep you here any longer.'

With a flick of his wand, he vanished the bandages around her hands. The regrown skin looked smooth and healthy, albeit a trifle pinkish.

Healer Payne took her hand in his and examined it. 'That's excellent, though I'll have to advise you to refrain from unprotected manual labour for a while, such as cutting potion ingredients or gardening.'

She made a face to that. Where was the point of gardening if you didn't feel the earth and the growing plants under your fingers? However, she nodded.

Harry gave her a quick smile. 'I'll see to that, Healer Payne.'

Healer Payne then examined her chest, with the same result. 'Excellent,' he said, and helped her to readjust her hospital gown. 'You are free to leave anytime. Though I have to warn you. I'm afraid the press got notice of your accident, Mrs Potter. Reporters have camped out in the entrance hall for the last three days.'

Daphne glanced at Harry.

He grimaced. 'I should've expected that. Is it possible to leave this room by Apparition?'

Healer Payne shook his head. 'Ever since the start of the last war we have improved our security. Nobody gets inside or outside by Apparition, not even by elf Apparition. The only way to Apparate in or out is through the Apparition point in the entrance hall, or you'll have to exit to the Muggle world.'

Harry hardly ever swore, but the expletive he now used made Healer Payne raise his eyebrows. Harry gave the healer a sheepish smile. 'Sorry.'

'It's alright, Mr Potter.' He paused and looked to the ground, as if he debated what to say next. 'There's one thing more I need to tell you. Though it is very unlikely, the antidote we had to give Mrs Potter might have long lasting effects on her ability to conceive.'

A jolt went through Daphne. The air left her lungs as if a Troll's cub had hit her diaphragm. 'You mean, I am barren?' she asked with the little breath she had left.

Healer Payne spread out his hands and shrugged his shoulders. 'We cannot say for sure, that depends on many factors, Mrs Potter. You might not experience any problems at all, you might find it impossible to conceive again, or it maybe somewhere in between.'

Ice spread in her stomach. 'I… impossible?'

Harry stepped beside her and put his arm around her shoulder. Small tingles went through her body where he touched her. The ice spread until it reached her heart. Harry wanted a family so badly ...

'Did I get that right, it's a possibility, and not a certainty?' Harry's voice cut through the fog of despair that threatened to swallow her.

'You heard me correctly, Mr Potter.'

Healer Payne sighed again. 'I don't expect any complications because of your miscarriage, Mrs Potter. It was still very early in your pregnancy, so it's affects will feel like a rather heavy period. The usual Painkiller Potion and Anti-Cramp Potion most witches keep at home for those cases should suffice to help you through the physical aspects of the treatment. The grief and feeling of loss you undoubtedly experience right now is another matter and will take its time to heal.'

He then told them goodbye and left the room.

Harry tightened his grip around her shoulder and gave her a kiss on her bent head.

'Stop brooding, darling.'

She bit her lips and looked to the ground. Harry had been so happy about her pregnancy, she ought to get pregnant again as soon as possible to make up for the loss he'd suffered. It was all her fault, if she hadn't left the group to talk to Hermione, nothing of this would've happened.

'It's a possibility,' Harry's voice cut into her morose thoughts. 'But we won't know for certain unless we keep trying in vain until we're old and grey. Or don't you want to practise anymore with me?'

Her head jerked up, and she gaped at him.

He gave her his lopsided grin, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

She shook her head, but had to laugh. 'You're such a prat. But I guess you're right.'

He put his other arm around her and hugged her. 'That's my girl. Come on, let's get out of here.'

She looked down at herself. 'Do you expect me to walk out of here in front of the international press in a hospital nightgown?'

'Of course not.' He pulled out his wand. The next second, he'd Transfigured the ugly hospital nightgown into a plain bra and knickers, sanitary pads included. Daphne shot him a thankful smile, and he smirked back. He reached over to the chair he had occupied the last two days, picked up his rumpled robes and helped her putting them on and closing the row of buttons at the front.

Though her heart was heavy in her chest because of Healer Payne's devastating news, Daphne had to chuckle at the sight of his robes hanging down on her, and the seams pooling on the floor.

'Oops,' Harry said. He pointed his wand at the robes and shrunk them until they fitted and smoothed out. Then he helped her into her pumps, the only piece of her clothing that had survived the incident.

'Can you do something about my hair?' she asked, and twirled a strand between her fingers. After three days in a hospital her hair probably looked like a rat's nest.

He pointed his wand at his vacated chair. 'Accio, tie!'

From the folds of the chair a rather rumpled looking tie in Gryffindor colors soared towards him. He snatched it out of the air and Transfigured it into a small headscarf, just big enough to hide her tousled hair.

'You're the best,' she said, gave him a peck on the cheek, and tied the headscarf around her head. 'What about you? I think you could use one of your infamous Glamour Charms. You look like shit, if I might say so.'

He put on his suit jacket and pointed his wand at himself. The rumples in his suit and shirt straightened, the pale skin of his face assumed a healthy glow, and the unkempt stubble on his chin arranged itself into a smart three-day stubble.

'Satisfied?' he asked, let his wand slip back into its holster, and bit back a yawn.

'Much better,' she said, and gave him another kiss on the cheek. 'Though I expect you to catch up on sleep as soon as we're back home.'

'Agreed.' He held his hand out to her. 'Come on, let's get it over with.'

Hand in hand they walked to the entrance hall. Healer Payne hadn't exaggerated, most of the rackety wooden chairs in the entrance hall were occupied by reporters; the cameras and notepads in their laps while the waited for them to appear were a dead give away.

Harry took a deep breath and placed his left hand on the door handle of the glass door that separated the corridor they were in from the entrance hall. 'Ready?'

She squared her shoulders. 'As ready as I'll ever be.'

He held the door open for her and put his free hand on the small of her back as she walked through the door ahead of him, then let go of the door handle and slipped his arm around her waist.

As soon as they entered the entrance hall, the reporters jumped up as one man and swooped down on them. Of course, Skeeter was in the lead, her notepad with the Quick Quotes Quill hovering beside her.

The next second, the horde was stopped by an invisible shield. Those in the lead were pressed against it by those who came last, and screamed with pain and anger, though that didn't keep them from shouting questions at them.

Daphne looked up at her husband. 'Did you cast a silent Shield Spell behind my back?'

He nodded, a grim line around his mouth. 'I won't allow those harpies to harass you on top of all you've been through.' He made another move behind her back, and the screams and shouts were extinguished.

Harry smiled down at her. 'You've got to love Silencing Charms.' He pulled his arm away from her and pointed his wandtip at his throat.

'My wife and I appreciate the concern of the public, however, Daphne still needs some rest after her accident, so we'll ask you to respect our privacy and let us return to our home. Our assistant will give out a press statement in due time,' he said in a magically amplified voice.

The reporters didn't look happy about that, and made no move to back away from the shield Harry had put up.

He slipped his wand back into its holster, put his hand at the small of her back, and propelled her towards the Apparition point. His shield moved with them, and behind the shield the reporters.

Daphne let out a breath when they reached the Apparition point, and took Harry's arm. He wasted no time, and the next second she found herself standing in their bedroom.

Her legs trembled and threatened to give out under her. She clung to Harry's arm and grimaced. 'It seems that mob got more to me than I thought.'

He led her to the bed and helped her lay down. 'You'd better take a nap. I'll ask Kreacher to prepare a light lunch for you when you're awake.'

'Good idea.' She yawned. 'What are you going to do?'

'I think I'll take a shower and join you after that,' Harry said, tucked the duvet around her, and gave her a small kiss.

She smiled. 'I'd love that.' The next moment, she was out like a light.

_t.b.c._


	10. Chapter 10

_ **London, Grimmauld Place, August 2003** _

Harry looked down on his sleeping wife.

The traces of her fight for life were still visible on her face: her eyes were sunken into their sockets, with dark smudges beneath, and her skin was sallow even with the tan she'd acquired during their stay in Normandy.

He tried to swallow the bitter taste in his mouth, but his throat was choked. How could their life have turned from blissful happiness to mournful loss within the blink of an eye? His hands began to tremble, and he shoved them into the pockets of his trousers

Come to think of it, why was he of all people pondering this turn of events? After all, he'd experienced just that far too often in his still young life. He'd forgotten the lessons he'd learned in his early childhood, they had been washed away with the happy times he had shared with Daphne. If he'd lost her … He bit his bottom lip until he drew blood to stop the growl of frustration that was building in him.

She smiled in her sleep and cuddled deeper under the duvet. His nose caught a slight whiff of the familiar spicy scent that was Daphne.

Warmth spread in his chest, and he closed his eyes. Morgana and all other deities that were, magical and mundane, had been merciful; Daphne was still with him.

But whoever had done this to her was still out there.

Harry bent down, gave his sleeping wife a kiss on the forehead and traced the beautiful curve of her cheek with his fingertips, then straightened, squaring his shoulders, and took a deep breath. He cast a last look Daphne, turned around and left their bedroom. He had a lot of questions about what had happened, and he knew exactly the person to give him answers.

* * *

Five minutes later he strode into Cyrus' spacious office at the headquarters of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products.

Cyrus looked up from the papers in his hand. He froze, and his face turned pale. 'Daphne?'

Harry raised his hand in a placating gesture and slumped down on the hard chair in front of Cyrus' huge desk.

'She woke up this morning, and Healer Payne pronounced her well enough to leave the hospital. Right now she's napping. I have Kreacher sitting with her, he's got orders to get me as soon as she's awake. I don't want her to be alone right now. So, we don't have much time.'

He narrowed his eyes, and the muscles of his jaw tightened. His magic flared around him. 'I need to know what happened, and then I want five minutes alone with whoever did that to Daphne. The Aurors can dispose of what's left of him later.'

Cyrus flinched away from the physical touch of his magic. 'I don't think I've ever seen you this angry, Harry, not even -'

He broke off, glanced down at the papers in his hands and cleared his throat. However, when he looked back at Harry, there was no trace of uneasiness in his eyes. His gaze was as cool and calculating as always, and his bland face didn't give away his thoughts. He tossed the papers in his hands on the desk.

'Well, it might have been your best friend,' he said, and indicated with his hand at the papers in front of him. 'At least that's what Pince thinks, though I don't agree with him. I'm the economical brain of this business, and no potioneer, but even I can see that something in his report doesn't add up.'

He took a deep breath. 'I need you to fill me in. All I know is that I got a frantic call from Lisa in France on Monday who told me there had been an accident, Daphne was in hospital in a life-threatening condition, and you were with her and I was needed back here. The healer at St Mungo's refused to let me see you, and wouldn't even tell me what was going on, so all I could do was hold fort here and wait for news.'

Harry's chest tightened. He lowered his eyes and shifted in his seat. Daphne was still close to Cyrus, no matter what he'd done to her. There was a special bond between them not even Cyrus' despicable manipulations of her life had been able to destroy. Aside from what he'd done to them when he set them up to marry, Cyrus had never given him reason to doubt he loved his oldest daughter as much as she loved him - though he sometimes had a horrible way of expressing his love for her.

The man must've gone through hell during these last three days, just as he did when he sat beside Daphne's bed and urged her to fight for her life. He'd been so caught up in his own despair and sorrow that he'd not once spared a thought on Cyrus, or Isabella and Tori.

Warmth crept in his face, and he chewed on the inside of his cheek. 'I'm sorry. I should've thought that you, Isabella and Tori must be going out of your minds with worry, I should've taken the time to inform you. However, I didn't dare leave her -' He broke off; his eyes stung, and he covered his face with the palms of his hands.

'Don't think about it, son.' There was a lot of understanding in Cyrus' voice. 'Daphne needed you, and you were by her side as a good husband should. I don't begrudge your actions, Harry; hell, in your place I too would have been solely focussed on my family, and damn the rest of the world to the seventh pit of hell.'

Harry pulled his hands from his face and gave Cyrus something that hopefully looked like a smile. He took a deep breath; he needed to get a grip on himself, Cyrus wanted answers, and so did he, they needed to work together.

'Well, you scheduled that appointment with the American delegation for us on Monday. Daphne and I met with them and Pince, and Pince took us for a tour of the laboratory. We gathered around the cauldron of one of the new potioneers, Cadwallader. Pince explained what he was working on, but Daphne couldn't cope with the smell that emitted from his cauldron -.'

His voice faltered. They'd been so happy that morning. Daphne had shown first signs of her pregnancy, if her sudden aversion to smells was anything to go by. He'd been worried about her; she'd be the one to bear the brunt of the physical effects of their biggest wish coming true, and there was so little he could do to help her. At the same time, it had been so exciting and exhilarating to watch that small change in her…

He rubbed his face with the palms of his hands. Clinging to a past that never would become future wouldn't get him anywhere, that was another lesson he'd learned early in life.

'Daphne went over to Hermione's workplace, and they talked while Hermione finished the potion she was working on. I remember she warned Daphne to close her eyes before she added the next ingredient, Alihotsy leaves. She added the leaves, but instead of the smoke you'd expect to rise from the cauldron, the potion inside had a violent reaction, erupted from the cauldron and covered the front of Daphne's robes. I've never smelled something as repulsive as that potion, sour and acid. It burnt through Daphne's robes and her skin. She screamed, and I ran towards her. It was evident she was in horrible pains.'

He took a shuddering breath. 'I summoned the Emergency Portkey we keep in the laboratory for accidents, and tried to get her to St Mungo's, but she started to seizure. It was horrible, I thought the seizure would never end, and she was in so much pain! However, it ended … eventually, but then … but then …'

His throat constricted, and he covered his eyes with his hand.

'She stopped breathing.' The words were a mere whisper.

Cyrus waited in silence until he'd regained his composure.

'Hermione saved her,' Harry said, his voice hoarse. 'I had no idea what to do, but she kept her wits about herself and did the Arithmancy equations to find out what had happened. It took her only a few seconds, and she knew whatever had happened turned her potion poisonous, so I summoned a Bezoar and shoved it down Daphne's throat.'

Cyrus gave him a small, wane smile across his desk. 'You and Hermione still make a good team in an emergency, Harry. Thank you for saving my daughter.'

Harry shrugged and sank back in his uncomfortable chair. 'Well, that was about everything I could do. That, and Summoning a Portkey to get her to St Mungo's. Hermione came with me; she'd bottled a sample of the potion, and she helped the healers to brew the antidote. It's her you have to thank, without her we wouldn't have known what went on before it had been too late.'

He took another deep breath. 'That's why I'm here. I want to know how Hermione's potion could've turned into a lethal poison. I'm sure by now she'll have found the answer. We need to talk to her, and then we'll have to determine what to do next.'

Cyrus straightened in his seat. 'I agree.' He tipped with his index finger on the papers in front of him. 'Though, Pince doesn't. He's come to the conclusion that Hermione had made a mistake while preparing the Alihotsy leaves, and because of that the potion turned poisonous. He recommends laying her off.'

'What?' Harry sat bolt upright in his chair. Heat shot in his cheeks, and he clenched his hands around the arms of his chair, his knuckles turning white under his grip. He'd known that Pince was an idiot, but until today he hadn't truly grasped how big his idiocy was.

'What bullshit! I've read the reports about the Permanent-Hair-Curling Potion Pince's department is trying to develop. Hermione thinks it might be possible to translate the cheering effects of the Alihotsy leaves to a curl if the potion is used on the hair. The worst thing that could've happened, had she made a mistake preparing the leaves, would've been giving melancholy properties to her potion. Daphne probably would've got a crying fit, but that's all that could've happened.'

'That's what was bugging me about Pince's report,' Cyrus said with a nod. 'I couldn't put my finger on it, I knew he came to the wrong conclusion, but for the life of me I couldn't determine why. Oh well, I've always been mediocre at Potions, at best. James was better than I, and of course Lily was our Potion Mistress in the making.'

Harry's heart gave a small pang. Cyrus' had no idea what he did to him whenever he remembered his parents with such a casual remark. After all these years, their loss still hurt, but he'd also learned to enjoy each new tidbit he heard about them.

He shot his father-in-law a close-lipped smile. 'So, there's actually something you didn't excel in? Tell me, what grade did you get for your Potions N.E.W.T.?'

A slight tinge coloured Cyrus' cheeks, and he dipped his head down. 'An Acceptable,' he said, avoiding Harry's eyes.

Harry's smile turned into a weak grin. 'That's rich, coming from the man who expected me to have at least Es on all my N.E.W.T.s, and being among the top ten percent of my class for my B.A. and M.A. in Economics.'

Cyrus leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. 'Well, it seemed you respected me enough to follow my demands. If I remember correctly, you got an O, and you made it to the top, didn't you?'

A snort escaped Harry's lips. 'Right. But don't delude yourself, I didn't work my arse off because of you, but because I didn't want to find out what your daughter would've done to me if I hadn't met her expectations.'

He sobered. Daphne! How was she doing right now? Kreacher hadn't come yet to get him, so she must still be asleep. However, he needed to get on with his task.

'Do you mind if I ask Hermione to join us?' he asked his father-in-law.

Cyrus made an inviting gesture with his hand. 'Go ahead.'

Harry slipped his wand out of its holster and cast his Patronus. A few seconds later the majestic stag vanished to ask Hermione to join them.

He slipped his wand back and pointed towards the papers in front of Cyrus. 'May I have a look at what Pince thinks caused the … accident?'

'Be my guest,' Cyrus said, and pushed the papers towards him.

He grabbed the papers and leaned back in his chair to read. The frown on his face became deeper the farther he got. What was Pince thinking? Was he even thinking at all? The whole, so-called "report" of the cause of the incident was nothing more than a bunch of speculations and half truths. It was obvious he'd taken the whole mess as an opportunity to get rid of Hermione, there was no investigation at all. Did he really think Cyrus and him dumb enough to fall for this garbage? Merlin, he hadn't even done a proper analysis of the remains of the poisonous potion in Hermione's cauldron. On the contrary, he'd disposed of them as soon as possible.

Steps in front of Cyrus' office, then the voices of Fleur and Hermione, brought him back to the here and now. He tossed the papers back onto Cyrus' desk, his lips pressed together.

'I can tell you're as impressed with Pince's handling of the affair as I am,' Cyrus said, and gave him a shrewd side glance.

Harry snorted. 'You can say that again. Makes you wonder if he deliberately destroyed evidence that might have pointed towards him.'

A knock on the door interrupted him.

'Come in,' Cyrus called.

The door opened, and Hermione came into the room. Her steps were hesitant, and her eyes were guarded.

Cyrus and Harry both got up to greet her, Cyrus with a handshake, and Harry with a warm hug.

'Thank you, Hermione.' That was everything he managed to get out before his voice broke.

'Anytime, Harry.' Hermione returned his hug, though she lacked her usual fervour. Her movements were stiff and restrained.

They sat down. Hermione sat bolt upright, her eyes darted between him and Cyrus, her tongue flicked over her lips, and she had her hands clasped together in her lap.

Harry frowned. What by Merlin had got into her? This was not the Hermione he knew.

Cyrus cleared his throat. 'Hermione, there are no adequate words to express our gratefulness, still my family and I want to thank you for saving our daughter with your quick thinking. Without you, we would have lost one of those who is dearest to us in this world.'

Hermione startled; her eyes grew wide, and her cheeks pinked. 'You want to thank me? But I thought -. Well, Director Pince said -.'

She broke off and bit her lips, and the colour on her cheeks intensified.

Harry straightened. It seemed Pince was somehow the reason for Hermione's stressed behaviour. Well, after he read Pince's so-called report, he shouldn't be surprised about that.

Cyrus seemed to draw the same conclusions as he did when Hermione mentioned Pince. He shot Harry another quick side glance across the table, leaned forward on his desk, and looked at Hermione. 'What did Director Pince say?'

Again, Hermione bit her lips. 'He suspended me until you were ready to make a final decision, but indicated right from the beginning that I am going to be laid off for what I did. When you called me today, I thought -'

'That we were going to fire you?' Cyrus asked. 'Well, I was never one to fire an employee without investigating thoroughly beforehand. So, I never would have acted on Director Pince's recommendations alone, even if the report he wrote about the incident didn't seem off to me right from the beginning.'

At his words, Hermione relaxed in her seat; her body physically unwinded itself in front of Harry's eyes.

Harry put his hand on hers and gave it a light squeeze. 'Healer Payne told me you helped the healers at St Mungo's to analyse the poison and develop an antidote. I guess your findings will be documented in Daphne's patient record, but why don't you tell us what you found out? I imagine it will be quite different to what is in Pince's report.'

'I'd also like to hear what you discovered whilst helping my daughter,' Cyrus said.

'Alright.' Hermione took a deep breath. 'How familiar are you with the process of analysing a potion to determine its properties and ingredients?'

Cyrus' lips twitched. 'I hate to admit it, but count me as ignorant. Even my understanding of the test series that are done in the laboratory is limited. Reverse analysis is hardly ever necessary when developing a new potion, so it's not something I see in any of the regular reports.'

'I think you already had a good notion about the properties of the stuff that hit Daphne, based on the reaction you observed, and the ingredients you had used up to that point, didn't you, Hermione?' Harry asked.

Hermione nodded to that. 'Correct, Harry; all ingredients used in brewing potions store a certain amount of magic. When combined in a potion, the ingredients react to each other and release their magic. Since the ingredients are combined to create something new, most of that magic is bound into the potion, however, not all. What you identify as the telltale fumes or smells of a potion is nothing but the excess magic that's released. Are you following me so far?'

Harry and Cyrus nodded.

'Excellent. A good Potions Master knows everything about the average amount of magic stored in the ingredients they use, and how the way you prepare the ingredients influences the release of the magic, and of course also how the different ingredients are supposed to react with each other when combined. However, since all magical ingredients are gained from natural sources, their actual level of residual magic might differ from what we know about the average amount of magic they are supposed to have.'

'So I guess it depends on where an ingredient comes from?' Harry asked. 'For example, the blood of an Hungarian Horntail has a different amount of available magic than the blood of a Chinese Fireball, even though they are both dragon blood?'

Hermione nodded to that. 'Exactly. The age of the beast, its nutritional condition, and potentially even if it's male or female also play into that. These differences are why most wizards and witches find it difficult to brew potions and always get satisfying results. Instead, most of the magical world resort to ready-made potions. The potioneers who brew those potions are expected to deliver a product of consistent quality and potency. For that reason we've learned how to determine the amount of magic of the actual ingredients we use and adjust the recipes to make up for any differences to the average amount of magic they are supposed to have.'

She took a deep breath. 'That's what we did with the shipment of Alihotsy leaves I used for that potion. I knew the exact amount of magic they contained, and based on that and my knowledge of the ingredients I had already used, I knew how the potion was supposed to react.'

'And when the potion erupted out of the cauldron, you knew right then that something didn't add up,' Harry said.

Hermione snorted. 'Yeah, but that's not all. By the violent reaction I knew that something with a significantly more volatile magic had to have been put into my cauldron, like the time when Malfoy threw a Filibuster Firework into Neville's cauldron.'

Harry startled. 'How could that have happened to you? I thought you always put up a shield around you with a rune on your cauldron?'

'Not always,' Hermione said. 'Although the rune only creates a weak field of magic, that field interacts with the potion in the cauldron. I know how to circumvent that effect when brewing an already developed potion, or during an analysation, but when developing a new potion, that kind of magical interference is not desirable.'

'Ah, I see,' Harry said.

'As I said before, I knew right from the moment the accident happened that the potion must have been turned into something dangerous. My knowledge of what went into the potion up to that moment, and from what I could see by the way that potion reacted, enabled me to do a first phase Arithmancy calculation. By eliminating all other possibilities this calculation determined that the potion had become poisonous, and that it was probably lethal.' A violent shudder went through her body, and she covered her face with her hands.

Harry bent towards her and put an arm around her shoulders.

She looked up to him. 'I don't dare think of what would've happened, if you hadn't Summoned the Bezoar that fast.'

He gave her shoulder a small squeeze. 'Then don't think of it. I never would've thought that Daphne had been poisoned without your warning, Hermione.'

Cyrus cleared his throat. 'As I said to you before, Harry, you and Hermione make a good team. But I still don't understand what happened to turn Hermione's potion into a poison.'

'I think I do,' Harry said with a last pat on Hermione's back, and straightened. 'I guess the Alihotsy leaves never made it into the potion, and have been replaced with something else. Am I right, Hermione?'

'Yes, you are.' She nodded. 'When we analysed the sample I scraped up from the bottom of my cauldron, we didn't find a trace of Alihotsy leaves. What we found, however -.' Again, a violent shudder went through her body.

Harry sucked in a sharp breath. The findings must be horrible, given Hermione's reaction.

'This isn't your fault Hermione, so just say it, what did you find instead?' His eyes never left her face.

'The toxin of the Golden Poison Frog,' she said, and her face assumed a slight green tinge.

Harry's stomach turned into a ball of ice, and an almost paralysing cold spread through his veins. He had heard about that frog, a long time ago, in Muggle primary school. Bile rose in his throat, and he gasped. 'Isn't that the poison the native tribes in South America used for their arrows to kill their enemies?'

Cyrus shook his head. 'I don't think I ever heard of that.'

'That poison and its properties is not part of the curriculum for the N.E.W.T.s,' Hermione said. 'It's also hardly used in potions because of its acute toxicity.' She nodded at Harry. 'You're right; you probably learned about it at Muggle primary school, or watching a documentary on the telly.'

'How in the world got such an exotic poison into one of our laboratories?' Cyrus asked, a deep frown on his face, and straightened in his chair.

'It's probably included in the series of tests the Department for Magical Research and Development are right now conducting to develop a new shampoo against dandruff,' Harry said. 'Pince mentioned on Monday that they are experimenting with animal poison and venom, though he didn't mention that poison explicitly. However, he listed the poisonous animals he wanted to buy for that test series in his last budget plan. I remember he had different exotic frogs listed, too. Didn't you read that part?'

Cyrus shook his head. 'No, at least not to that detail. I remember that Pince suggested a test series with animal poisons and venoms. It sounded interesting and worth exploring. Since his planned budget was overall within sensible limits, I approved. Had I known -.' He broke off and covered his eyes with his hand.

'The Golden Poison Frog, or Phyllobates terribilis, is endemic to the rainforest on the pacific coast of Columbia,' Hermione said. 'It's skin is densely coated in an alkaloid toxin. The average wild Phyllobates terribilis is generally estimated to contain about one milligram of poison, enough to kill about ten-thousand mice. This dose is enough to kill between ten and twenty humans, which correlates to up to two African bull elephants.'

A sharp pain went through Harry's body. Daphne had had to fight such a vile poison? He pulled at his collar, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. A fine husband he was. She'd been assaulted and almost killed right in front of him, and he hadn't been able to protect her.

A warm hand covered his hand that was curled into a fist on his thigh. 'Are you alright, Harry?'

He opened his eyes and looked into Hermione's concerned eyes. 'No, I'm not. I'm livid that I let such a cowardly attack happen right under my nose. Seems I've become complacent and careless over the last five years.'

'You've got no reason to blame yourself, son,' Cyrus said. His face was ashen. 'Nobody could have expected something like that. I had no idea how dangerous that poison is, or I never would've agreed with that test series. What was Pince thinking to suggest to include such a dangerous ingredient into a shampoo?'

Harry let out a harsh laugh. 'I told you before, I doubt he's capable of thinking.'

Hermione shook her head. 'You're too hard on him, Harry. He's a mostly excellent Potions Master. His idea to use animal poisons and venoms has merits, and if we happen to find a way to neutralise the poisonous properties while keeping the desired properties, that'll be a big break-through in the history of potion brewing.'

Harry took another deep breath. His fist slowly uncurled. 'Whatever, Hermione. That doesn't bring us any closer to answering to the question who did it and why.'

'I agree,' Cyrus said. 'Maybe we should start by finding out if Pince actually ordered Golden Poison Frog skin, and if yes, what became of the skin Pince ordered.'

He picked up his phone and pressed the button for the outer office. 'Fleur, could you get us the ledgers of the storage of all potion ingredients? We'll also need all test reports from last Monday on.'

He put back the receiver, and Harry quirked an eyebrow at him. 'Why everything? We'll only need the ledger of the storage room for the dangerous ingredients, and the reports of Abbott and Pyke.'

Cyrus used his index finger to indicate Pince's report Harry had tossed back on his desk. 'You said yourself that this report makes it look as if Pince is trying to get rid of evidence that points to him. What if he is the one who's behind all that? I don't want to give our hand away. It's not unusual that I want to see the test reports of ongoing series, or have a look at the storage ledgers. But it would raise Pince's suspicion if I singled out certain days or ingredients.'

'You've got a point there,' Harry said, nodding his understanding. He leaned back in his chair to wait for Fleur getting the items for them. However, each second seemed to be an eternity. He took a look at his wristwatch. How long would Daphne still be asleep? Should he return and sit by her side, in case she woke up? She'd been heartbroken about the news of her miscarriage, and would need some time to get over it, especially in the light of possible problems to have another child. She shouldn't be all alone and brood.

He shifted in his seat. What was taking Fleur so long? He cast an impatient look at the door and tapped his thigh with his fingers.

'Stop that, Harry, you're making me nervous, and it doesn't make things go faster,' Hermione said, and put her hand on his to prevent him from tapping. 'Tell me how Daphne is doing.'

'Better,' he said, and gave her a small smile. 'Or I wouldn't be sitting here. She's been released from hospital this morning, but of course she's still shaken up by what happened.'

'Quite understandable,' Hermione said. 'Is she up for visitors yet? I -'

She was interrupted by the door opening. Fleur came into the room and put a stack of folders and ledgers in front of Cyrus. She gave Harry and Hermione a small smile, and left as quietly as she had come.

Cyrus shifted through the stack in front of him until he had found what he'd been searching for. He pulled out a thin folder and opened it. 'These are Abbott and Pyke's test reports,' he said, and leafed through the thin folder. 'Ah, here's the report from last Monday.'

He put the folder in front of him, and beckoned to Harry and Hermione to come around the desk and read together with him.

Not surprising, Hermione found the information they had been looking for first. 'Abbott worked with the skin of the Golden Poison Frog,' she said, and put her finger on the line where Abbott had listed the ingredients used in the test potion he had brewed that morning. She furrowed her eyebrows. 'However, he only used a small part of the skin. Was that all he had? If no, I wonder what became of the rest.'

'That's a valid question,' Cyrus nodded. He put the folder with Abbott's report aside and pulled the ledger for the storage room for the dangerous ingredients towards himself and opened it. His finger moved down the column of the stored ingredients, until it came to Golden Poison Frog skin.

Harry's breath hitched. He put a hand on Cyrus' shoulder and bent closer to have a better look. There it all was. The laboratory had bought the skins of two Golden Poison Frogs. Abbott had begun experimenting with that skin on that fateful Monday morning, and had taken out one skin for that purpose. According to his report, he'd only used a small part of that skin for the first test potion. The series hadn't been continued that day after Daphne's … accident.

'The rest of the skin, however, never made it back into the storage room,' he said and straightened, a grim line around his mouth.

Hermione put a finger on the line Cyrus had pointed out, and gasped as she obviously stumbled across something. She pulled the biro and notepad on Cyrus' desk towards her and scribbled down what seemed to be another very complicated Arithmancy equation.

Harry and Cyrus exchanged a look over her head, but kept quiet not to disturb her concentration.

After a couple of minutes, Hermione straightened with a pale face. She pointed with the tip of the biro at a number at the bottom of her row of equations. 'When we did the analysis at St Mungo's, we were able to find out the total amount of poison that went into my cauldron. It matches to within a couple of decimal places with the properties of the missing remains of the frog skin that are listed in the ledger.'

Harry took a deep breath. 'So, we know how it was done. Somebody switched the Alihotsy leaves you were going to add to the potion with the skin of the Golden Poison Frog Abbott was working with.'

Hermione nodded to that. 'Yes; unfortunately, the Switching Spell is such a popular prank spell that by the end of first year all Hogwarts students are proficient with it, even though it isn't taught before fourth year. It doesn't require much power, only a very focussed intent, so it isn't hard to cast without a wand for a qualified wizard or witch, they could have switched it just as I emptied the bowl holding my prepared leaves over my cauldron, I wouldn't have noticed as I had my eyes closed for that first hit of smoke. The error in my calculations is most likely due to some Alihotsy sap that had dribbled into the bottom of the bowl that was collected by the skin as it was switched in.'

'Then all we have to do is to find out who of the many people in that laboratory were near enough to cast that spell, and who had a grudge on you or Daphne big enough to want to kill you.' He rubbed his face with the palms of his hands. 'Should be a piece of cake, really.'

'Whoever did it might not necessarily have wanted to kill,' Cyrus contradicted. 'He or she might just have used what was at hand without knowing what results that would have. Also, the attack might not have been aimed at Daphne specifically. Hermione is also a likely victim, or maybe the attacker acted out of a grudge against our company in general.'

Hermione bit her lips, but didn't answer.

Harry sucked in a sharp breath. Obviously, she disagreed with Cyrus' conclusion. He looked from Hermione to Cyrus. 'We'd better adjourn the discussion about who might behind this to a more private place. Also, I want to bring Ron in.'

Cyrus gave an involuntary sharp movement at that.

Harry shook his head. 'I know how you are feeling about involving the Aurors, Cyrus. Damn it, if it was possible to keep this under the rug, I'd do that and take my own retribution. However, what if that was a purposeful attack on Daphne? The Aurors have better means to investigate than we do.'

Cyrus let out a deep sigh. 'You're right, Harry. What do you suggest?'

'We're going to meet tonight at Grimmauld Place and have a council of war. Daphne will have my hide if I don't let her have a say in this, too.'

_t.b.c._


	11. Chapter 11

_ **London, Grimmauld Place, August 2003** _

Daphne's eyelids fluttered open. Warmth surrounded her, she yawned and stretched her arms. The last vestiges of a very pleasant dream still played in her mind, but faded away before she could remember what it had been about. In spite of her refreshing nap, her body felt heavy, leaden even, as if she was recovering from a severe illness. She stretched again. Then it hit her.

The exploding cauldron.

Waking up in the hospital bed.

Harry's pale face.

… And the baby nobody knew about, except Harry and her.

It had been no more than a mere idea, many would say, and yet it had been so real to her. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she blinked them away. Harry didn't need to see her cry, he'd been through too much already without having to be burdened with her sorrow.

She turned her head to Harry's side.

The bed was empty, not even a dent in his pillow to indicate that he'd taken the nap he'd spoken of.

She furrowed her eyebrows. 'Harry?'

'Master came home five minutes ago and fell asleep on the couch in the family room.'

Kreacher's bullfrog voice almost startled her out of her skin, and she jerked her head around.

The ancient house elf slid from a stool he'd sat on next to her bed. 'Master told Kreacher to get him as soon as Mistress was awake."

'Wait, Kreacher.' She held out her arm to stop the elf.

'But Master said -'

'It's alright, Kreacher, I don't want you to wake up Harry. Merlin knows he needs some sleep. I'll tell him I ordered you not to wake him, and I forbid you to do anything to yourself because of this!'

'Mistress is too kind to Kreacher.' The old house elf bowed and then popped away.

She cast away the duvet and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. The room seemed to sway as she sat up, a reminder that she'd been at death's door not so long ago. She waited until the swaying had mostly subsided, and stood up to go to the bathroom, her movements slow and deliberate, and she held to the bedposts to steady herself. It wouldn't do to crash headlong to the floor.

A long shower helped a lot to get her circulatory system back to some sort of working order. She towelled herself dry, pulled out her wand and summoned fresh underwear, soft jogging pants, and an even softer sweater from the wardrobe.

A dragging pain in her abdomen reminded her of the need to line her panties with a sanitary pad. Again, she had to blink away the tears. This was nothing else than her normal period; if she repeated that often enough she might even believe it. She could have lost the baby, anyway, even without the … accident. It had still been that early in her pregnancy …

In spite of her reasoning, a small voice within her insisted that without her being poisoned by the potion she never would have lost the baby.

Enough! She bit on her lower lip and straightened. It wouldn't help her in anyway to lose herself in what ifs; she'd only become more miserable if she went down that path. She ought to move on and trust that her next pregnancy would come to a successful end, whenever that might be - if it would ever be.

A cold hand gripped around her heart, and her breath hitched in her throat. Their marriage was based on a carefully maintained construct of mutual goals and dreams, the biggest of them was their combined hope for a family. They had managed to build up a strong friendship and genuine affection between them from that foundation. Sometimes she'd thought they were even at the brink of more, something wonderful, especially during these two weeks in France, and when she'd told Harry of her pregnancy.

Tears again filled her eyes. Would their marriage survive the threat of childlessness? Would Harry become disappointed with his barren wife at some point and turn from her, to look for what she couldn't give him somewhere else?

Would he turn to the Weaselette, for example? Given her family background, that bitch surely was fertile enough to pop out a whole Quidditch team as soon as she was ready to end her career.

She startled. Now, where had that thought come from?

She frowned, grabbed for the jogging pants and slipped them on.

For almost five years, ever since she'd resolved to trust Harry and devote herself to their relationship as it was, she'd hardly thought of the bitch. Of course it had helped that she'd decided to stay on the other side of the Atlantic.

A snort escaped her, and she curled her lips and scrunched up her nose. She picked up the sweater, pulled it over her head, and went to the washbasin to blow dry her hair.

The hunting-grounds were surely more profit-yielding over there than back home, given the Weaselette's two short, yet very rich marriages within not even five years. She wouldn't have been able to find two rich husbands in such short succession in magical Britain, that much was sure.

She slipped her wand into her hand and pointed the tip at her hair. Hot air came out of it, and her expertly cut hair arranged itself with a silent, additional spell.

The wealth in magical Britain still was concentrated among a few, very old families. Most of them had supported Voldemort, and had lost most of their wealth in the aftermath. Those who didn't still prided themselves on their class. None of their scions ever would've considered a brassy, ill mannered professional Quidditch player from an impoverished family as a bride. Yes, the Weaselette had been well advised to look for a rich husband outside of magical Britain.

She slipped her wand back into the holster and grabbed for her brush to give her hair the finishing touch.

Of course, the absence of the bitch had been a heaven sent intervention for Harry's and her relationship. They had been happy during these years. Harry hadn't pined after the Weaselette anymore - at least she didn't think so. Maybe he'd just become better at hiding his feelings? Why else would have Elias' remark about the way the Weaselette had fleeced him when they got divorced make Harry retreat into himself like he'd done during the early months of their marriage, when he tried to come to grips with his feelings and hide them from her?

Daphne put the brush back onto the marble top of the washbasin, then leaned against it with her hands and sighed. She looked at her pale face in the mirror and worried her lower lip between her teeth. No, she was reading too much into Harry's reaction, ever since that Christmas Day he never had given her reason to think he wasn't over the bitch. She was probably overreacting. Her hormones still had to settle down, but right now they were very likely creating havoc with her brain, and she was beside herself with grief.

The latter was also true for Harry.

Daphne took a deep breath to center herself. It was about time to stop her pity-party and think about her husband. Why had he left the house while she was sleeping, and where had he gone when he was supposed to take a nap with her to recover from the ordeal he had been through?

She turned around and walked down the three stories to the family room on the lower ground floor. She stopped at the threshold, a hand on the doorframe.

Harry was sound asleep on the sofa. However, he still wore the clothes he had worn in the hospital.

She narrowed her eyes and gave him a sharp look. Yes, his Glamour Charm was still intact; he hadn't taken the time to shower and make himself more comfortable before he had left the house. Why?

Harry shifted in his sleep, his brows furrowed, and he groaned.

Damn it, he had a nightmare. This hadn't happened in years, at least not that she knew of. Given that he tended to thrash around and make a lot of noise whenever he had a nightmare, she would have been woken up by that, so she was pretty sure he had been free of that affliction for a long time.

Daphne rushed towards him. She sank down on the edge of the sofa beside him, and caressed the frown between his brows with her fingertips.

'Shh, it's alright, Harry. You're fine, nothing is going to happen to you, I won't let it.'

She sighed; she should have expected something like this. Afterall, Harry was grieving as much as she did, maybe even more, but he wouldn't want her to see that as long as she was still recovering from her injuries and the miscarriage. A small smile appeared on her lips, and she bent down to kiss the furrow between his brows. He was still such a ridiculously chivalrous Gryffindor. As if she wouldn't want to be there for him and help him through this dark time, just like he would be there for her.

The furrow smoothed out under her lips. Harry shifted in his sleep and let out a small sigh.

'I'm sorry, Ginny!'

Daphne froze, and her stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch. Had she heard that right? His voice had barely been audible. She bit her lips; no doubt, he had called the bitch's name in his sleep.

She pushed herself back into a sitting position so fast that the room seemed to spin around her for a few seconds, and looked down on her sleeping husband. His eyebrows were still slightly furrowed, and he seemed uncomfortable.

Was he having a nightmare about the day he had to break up with the Weaselette because Father had forced him to marry her? Oddly enough, that memory had not been among the many horrible memories he had been forced to deal with when he took the _Renouvellement Potion_, and up to now it never had come up in one of his nightmares, either.

How was she supposed to deal with that? Usually, she'd wake him up and gently encourage him to talk about whatever had plagued him in his dreams. But things were different when it came to the Weaselette. Something in Harry's demeanour had always indicated that this topic was off limits, and she had always respected his boundaries.

Harry groaned and shifted again in his sleep.

She had to help him somehow. She put a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently. 'Wake up, Harry, you're having a nightmare.'

He froze in his sleep, then opened his eyes wide and stared at her, unfocused, for a long moment, until his eyes became clear. A smile crept over his face, and he sat up and put his arms around her.

'I'm sorry I wasn't there when you woke up.' He gave her a small kiss, and a frown appeared on his face. 'Why didn't Kreacher get me?'

'Because I told him not to,' she said, and snuggled against him. 'He said you'd just come home and fallen asleep, so I ordered him not to wake you. I'm sorry that I had to wake you, but you had a nightmare.' She turned her face up to him. 'Do you want to talk about it?'

He shook his head. 'That would be useless; I already forgot everything about it.' However, a slight pink tinge dusted his cheekbones, and his eyes didn't meet hers.

Why was he lying to her? Was he feeling uncomfortable about talking to her of all people about the Weaselette, or was something more behind his reticence?

He gave her no time to think about it. He pulled his arms off her and swung his legs over the edge of the sofa. A huge yawn escaped him, and he hastened to cover it with his hand. 'Anyway, I don't think I'm going to be able to get back to sleep. I'd better take a shower. Maybe you can ask Kreacher to prepare a few sandwiches for us? I don't think I've had a proper meal for days, and you look as if you've lost some weight while you were unconscious.'

She nodded to that and also got up. While Harry went upstairs, she walked into the kitchen and ordered a plate of sandwiches and tea.

Not even fifteen minutes later Kreacher placed a plate with sandwiches on the coffee table in the family room, together with a steaming tea pot and cups and plates for Harry and her. She could already hear Harry's footsteps on the staircase, so she prepared a cup of tea for him as he liked it.

Harry entered the room as she just put back the teapot.

'Thank you, darling,' he said, dropped a kiss on her head, and sat down beside her on the sofa. He picked up his cup and took a thirsty gulp, then selected a sandwich from the plate and bit into it.

Daphne also took a sandwich, but it tasted like cardboard, and she had to wash it down with some tea, or it would have got stuck in her throat. However, Harry would worry if she didn't eat something, given her usual hearty appetite, so she managed to get the damned thing down somehow. Hopefully it would stay there; it sat in her stomach like a load of bricks.

'Where have you been while I was asleep?' she asked. Of course she wanted to know, but she had also to divert him from her lack of appetite. Merlin knew he was much too perceptive for her taste and wouldn't need long to pick up on that without a proper distraction.

Harry held his cup out to her for a refill. 'I wanted to know what had happened to you; as I already told you after you woke up this morning, I couldn't believe that the Alihotsy leaves Hermione had added to the potion would cause such a reaction.'

Her hands didn't tremble when she poured fresh tea into his cup. Neither did her voice. 'That was surely an unexpected reaction,' she said, and put the teapot down.

Harry let out a harsh laugh. 'That, my dear, is the understatement of the century. I went to headquarters while you were asleep. Your family needed to be informed about your recovery, and I wanted to talk to Hermione. She helped the healers at St Mungo's to analyse the potion and brew the antidote, so she was the most likely person to have the answers I needed.' His eyes looked like green thunderclouds, and he'd pressed his lips into a tight, white line.

A weight settled down on her chest. Her knees clasped together, she picked up her cup and sipped. Her hands still didn't tremble, but her fingers were all of a sudden ice cold. What had he found out? Going by the expression on Harry's face, it had to be serious.

She put the cup back onto the saucer and took a calming breath. 'Will you tell me what you've found out?'

He grabbed her hand with fingers as cold as hers. 'Of course I will, Daph. You need to know what's going on, there's nothing worse than being left in the dark about important things in your life you ought to know to make an informed decision.'

She leaned her head against his shoulder. Harry knew what he was talking about, Dumbledore's refusal to talk to him in his fifth year had led him to the biggest mistake in his life, and caused him to lose the only father he'd ever known. She couldn't recall how many nights of sleep she'd lost over countless mugs of hot cocoa after another of his nightmares about the Battle at the Ministry, while she tried to make him understand that Sirius' death also had been Dumbledore's fault for treating him like an ignorant child as much as it had been Sirius' own fault for becoming cocky and toying with Bellatrix Lestrange when he should have killed her as fast as possible.

Harry gave her a kiss on the top of her head and took a deep breath.

Daphne braced herself.

However, nothing in her life had prepared her for the tale of horror he revealed to her. She had survived being poisoned with one of the most deadliest poisons on this planet? If Hermione had not kept her head on her shoulders and found out what had happened to her mere seconds after the incident, if Harry hadn't summoned the Bezoar …

A violent shudder went through her body, and her breath came in short, laboured gasps. She clenched her hands into fists. No, she'd better not think about the consequences, or she'd go crazy.

Harry put his arms around her, pulled her close, and murmured soft words of comfort into her hair.

She took another deep, calming breath. Now was not the moment to lose her nerves, she could deal with her shock later. She wanted answers. Who had done that to her and her baby, and why?

As always, Harry's presence helped more to calm her down than any breathing exercise. She straightened up in Harry's arms and looked at him. 'Have you any idea who might have done it and why?'

He shook his head. 'Not yet. However, Cyrus, Hermione and Ron are coming over for dinner tonight and a council of war. Cyrus is not happy about this, he'd rather not involve the Aurors, but I told him this can't be kept under the rug, not when your life was at stake. At least Ron will try to keep it a confidential investigation.'

'Father's right, I'd also rather not have the incident become public knowledge. Can you imagine what Skeeter will make out of it? An exotic poison, and the wife of the Chosen One almost killed by a potion his alleged first love had brewed. She doesn't need more ingredients for one of her infamous stories. Merlin, that will probably pay her rent for years!'

Harry snorted. He put his hand under her chin, tilted her head up, and gave her a soft kiss. 'I'm glad you're not freaking out about this.'

Daphne averted her eyes and shrugged. 'What's going to be accomplished by that? I refuse to let myself being intimidated by that … incident. I want answers, and then I want five minutes alone with whoever has done that to us. I don't think a court session will be needed after that.'

Harry pulled her towards him with a small chuckle, though it didn't sound happy. 'You know, I said almost the same to Cyrus this morning, so you're going to have to get in line behind me.'

She leaned against him, and they relapsed into a familiar silence.

However, her thoughts raced behind the calm face she presented to her husband. Who was behind this? Was someone out there to murder her? Or had it just been a freak accident?

She sighed and shifted in Harry's arms. No, she oughtn't to brood about that right now, it would only make her anxious. She'd better wait and see with what the Aurors would come up. There'd be time enough to freak out then.

It didn't take long, and Harry dozed off again, his head leaned against the backrest of the sofa.

Daphne scooted into the corner of the sofa to give him more room.

Harry opened his eyes for a split second, gave her a heartwarming smile, and stretched out on the sofa, his head in her lap, and fast asleep the next moment.

Her fingers massaged his scalp, and he let out a sigh of contentment in his sleep. She looked down on his relaxed face, and her heart glowed. These private moments with Harry were special; nowadays most of their time was spent out in the public, and Harry had learned how to guard his expression the hard way, thanks to Father's stern tutelage during the last five years.

He'd grown into his own during these years, and had become a quiet, confident man who didn't need to spread his feathers like a peacock to make people follow his lead. Of course it helped in the magical world that he was the Vanquisher-of-Evil, as _The Daily Prophet _called him regularly. His reputation in the magical world was surely larger than life.

But the Muggles they had to deal with daily, and who didn't know anything about Harry's fame, were just as affected by his charisma.

Only she and his closest friends knew the vulnerable, yet so tender and caring husband and friend beneath the layers of fame, wealth and influence.

She bent down and pressed a kiss in his silken hair, and he smiled in his sleep.

Her chest tightened, and her shoulders slumped. What if she couldn't give him the only thing he'd ever cared about in his life - a family of his own to cherish and care for? Had she the right to bind him to herself if Healer Payne's warning became true and she'd fail to conceive for years?

Silent tears ran down her cheek. She didn't bother to wipe them away. For the rest of the afternoon she sat in silence and watched how the shadows in the sunlit garden outside became longer, while the family room gradually became darker.

A couple of hours later Harry stretched and sat up. He yawned, rubbed his face with the palms of his hands, and cast her a small smile. 'Sorry, Daph, I didn't mean to use you as my pillow all afternoon long.'

The smile froze on his face, he cast her a sharp look, scooted nearer and wrapped his arms around her.

Damn it, he must have noticed the tear tracks on her cheeks.

He cupped her cheek with one hand and gently forced her to look at him. He had cancelled the Glamour Charm when he took the shower, and the dark shadows under his eyes that told of too little sleep and too much worry during the last couple of days were prominent once again.

She gulped and cast her eyes down. He didn't deserve that, she had to do something about it.

His lips touched her forehead, as soft as a butterfly. 'Don't cry, darling, we're going to get through this.'

Maybe, maybe not. Anyway, it still would be her fault. Why in Merlin's name had she walked to Hermione's workplace? She should have dealt with the nauseating fumes coming from Cadwallader's cauldron, it probably wouldn't have been the last time during her pregnancy a smell made her gag, but no, she had to be the delicate Pureblood princess and try to avoid the smell. Her idiocy had killed his child, and she didn't deserve him being that understanding.

Tears welled up in her eyes yet again, and she pulled away from him and averted her face.

'Daphne?' His voice sounded bewildered, and his hand rubbed her back in a soothing circle.

Her tears flowed freely now, all she could do was shaking her head and pulling away from him even farther.

His hand dropped off her back, and she heard him retreating into the other corner of the sofa.

Again, silence dropped between them, this time, however, a strained one, while she sniffled quietly. Of course he wouldn't understand what made her withdraw from him, Merlin, she also had no idea why she acted that way. She wanted nothing more than seek the comfort in his arms she didn't deserve, and her heart yearned for him to overcome her barriers and show her that she was worth it in spite of what she'd done.

Of course, he didn't do that. As always, he respected her boundaries and didn't pressure her. How was he supposed to know she wanted to do him just that?

A man who really loved her would know what was going on …

She startled. What an idiotic thought was that? Maybe that would be true for a Legilimens, but as long as she averted her eyes, even the most skilled Legilimens would be at a loss about her conflicting feelings. Merlin, these hormones were really wreaking havoc on her brain. Instead of wallowing in self-pity, she ought to get a grip on herself.

She flicked her wand, conjured a handkerchief and cleaned her nose, then turned around to her husband.

His eyes were dark and troubled, and he let out a deep breath.

'I'm sorry, honey.' Again, her chin trembled. How could she treat him that way, heap even more worry on his shoulders, after the hell she'd put him through since the incident?

The next moment she was in his arms again. 'Shh, it's alright, darling.'

She succumbed to another crying fit, and Harry comforted her through it. Finally, she pulled away.

'Oh gad, I must look horrible,' she said, and wiped the last tears away.

Harry gave her his devastating smile. 'You look as beautiful as always, only a little puffy around the eyes.'

She kissed him on the cheek. 'You're biased, but thank you for the compliment nevertheless.'

The clock on the mantelpiece chimed six, breaking the mood between them somewhat.

'I'd better get changed,' she said and got up. 'Father, Hermione and Ron will be here in another ten minutes.'

Daphne didn't take the time to walk all the way, but apparated right into their bedroom. Her head throbbed from all the crying she'd done that afternoon, and there was a constant, dragging pain in her abdomen. Should she take a Pain-Relief-Potion?

She went over to her bathroom cabinet, but stopped. No, she wouldn't numb her pain, she'd bear it in remembrance of the life she'd lost. Maybe she was foolish to suffer, but somehow she knew that facing the pain now would help her to cope better in the long run.

She splashed cold water into her face until the throbbing in her head subsided, then flicked her wand and placed some Glamour Charms on herself to hide her pale cheeks and the smudges below her eyes. The pain in her abdomen was strong enough to make her wince at the thought of the waistband on a pair of trousers, so she slipped into a loose summer dress and draped a cardigan over her shoulders.

Father had already arrived when she walked back into the family room. He sat in a chair opposite of Harry, a bottle of butterbeer in his hands, and made a somewhat strained conversation with his son-in-law. At her entrance, he got up, walked towards her and took her in his arms.

'How are you, princess?'

The use of his old endearment for her spoke volumes about his concern, and she had to blink away the tears once again. She'd become such a hosepipe.

'Much better. Still a trifle sore, but I'll recover completely.'

'Your mother and sister will be relieved to hear that,' Father said with a deep breath and kissed her on the forehead. 'You look much better than I thought you would.'

Behind Father's back, Harry made an involuntary, sharp move. Of course he'd know she wore a Glamour Charm, and she gave him an imperceptible shake of her head. There was no need to worry Father even more.

'How are Mother and Tori?' she asked, and sat down next to Harry.

'Happy that you're awake and were able to leave the hospital. The first news we got about your injuries -' Father broke off and shook his head.

A sharp pain throbbed in the back of her throat. Merlin, she had caused so much sorrow. She looked down on her hands in her lap, bit her lips, and took a deep breath to center herself. 'How has Tori taken the news?'

One look at Father's face told her everything she had to know. Tori's health had become so frail that even the smallest bit of anxiety could cause another episode. The pain in her throat intensified.

'She's on the mend already, but she's still bedridden. That's why your mother can't come back to England for a short visit,' Father said. 'The news that you are out of St Mungo's has helped a lot. However, Tori would be over the moon if you could visit her as soon as you're feeling up to that.'

She cast a look at Harry. 'What do you think, honey?'

He put his arm around her shoulder. 'If you feel like it, I could order an International Portkey for tomorrow night. I guess your father will want to return to Isabella and Tori and his interrupted holidays as soon as possible, so I am needed at headquarters until Friday, but if you like you can travel with him in the morning, and I'll follow that night.'

'I thought of returning to work tomorrow.'

'No way!' Father and Harry said unison.

Daphne snorted. It was a rare occurrence that the two most important men in her life agreed on something, even though they always were perfectly polite to each other. The looks they both gave her right now indicated that this hadn't been her smartest idea. Their solicitude was sweet; it was nice to be pampered occasionally.

She held up her hands in a gesture of surrender. 'Alright, I'll stay at home, although I'll most likely scream with boredom.'

Harry opened his mouth, but the flaring Floo prevented his response. Seconds later, Hermione and Ron stepped out of the fireplace.

Hermione at once rushed over to her and pulled her into her trademark hug.

Daphne clung to her friend; the damned tears welled up in her eyes again, and all she could do was whisper a hoarse 'Thank you!' against Hermione's shoulder.

Hermione patted her back and let go of her, her eyes rather watery.

After that, it was Ron's turn to hug her. He was uncharacteristically somber when he did so.

Kreacher saved the awkward moment and announced dinner, and Ron's face brightened immediately.

They settled down in the dining room - Kreacher had his own notions of what was befitting for a dinner in the house of his master and mistress, and would inevitably set the table in the formal dining room if not told otherwise. She'd been too immersed in her misery this afternoon to spare a thought on the guests they'd receive for dinner, and now had to take Kreacher's slightly over-the-top preparations in their stride.

However, it soon became apparent that this wasn't a social gathering of family and friends, but a dinner discussion. Ron pulled out a wad of parchment and a Self Inking Quill, put them beside his plate, and looked from Cyrus to Harry as soon as he sat down.

'Alright, I already know a little about the incident from what my rather distraught wife told me immediately after. She refused to give me details because of the obligation to secrecy she signed when she began working for your company. However, the few tidbits she could tell me all screamed foul play to me, and that you asked her to bring me over tonight for a discreet meeting only confirms my suspicion. So, what has happened, and how can I help you?'

Father motioned with his hand towards Hermione. 'I think it's best that your wife tells you what she's found out. She's the Potions Mistress and can explain the details much better than I can.'

That got him a small snigger from Harry.

'You don't have to heed the obligation of secrecy to our company, Hermione,' Father said, and sent Harry a mock-glare from the corner of his eyes.

Hermione nodded. She took a deep breath, and summarised what had happened from her point of view and what she'd found out, together with the healers from St Mungo's, as she analysed the poison to brew the antidote.

Daphne looked down on her plate and shifted the delicious salad Krecher had prepared around with her knife and fork. She'd heard the gist of that already from Harry, but hearing the detailed version from Hermione once again drove home what a close escape she had had.

At last, Hermione came to an end. Ron still was jotting down notes, and a deep frown marred his usually so amicable face. He put down the quill and looked up.

'Alright, there was a limited number of people in that laboratory who could have done it. I have to know who was there, and who was in a position to tamper with Hermione's potion. Not everybody would have had a clear view on her cauldron and could have managed a clear shot, I imagine. Also, you have to tell me everything you know about the people in the laboratory. I have to investigate their backgrounds. Maybe we'll find a motive that way, a grudge against the company, or maybe against Daphne or Hermione.'

Harry straightened in his chair. 'When we came into the laboratory, Abbott and Pyke were in one of the glass cubicles. They had left their ingredients on their worktables, apparently they were planning on returning to their potions soon. Hermione, Cadwallader and Williams were working at their places. Our group consisted of Daphne and me, Pince, the Crogans, John and Anne, I think, and Elias Frudge.'

'Don't forget the assistants who walked in and out of the room while we were working,' Hermione said.

Ron jotted down that information. 'That are a lot of people. Is anyone among them you know has a grudge against Hermione or Daphne or the company?'

'Not that I know of,' Father said, but Daphne exchanged a look with her husband. Harry gave her an encouraging nod, and she cleared her throat.

'Actually, there is. Pince isn't very happy about the fact that Harry and I will take over the leadership of the company. We've also butted heads with him over hiring Hermione. He was dead set against having to make a woman a member of his team.'

'Not to mention that he took this incident as an opportunity to get rid of Hermione,' Harry said. 'You should read his report, Ron. It's full of half truths and blatantly wrong deductions and virtually no investigation. He also neglected to analyse the remaining potion in Hermione's cauldron. In fact, his handling of the affair made me wonder if he was trying to destroy evidence that points to him.'

Ron put down his quill and looked between Father, Harry, Hermione and her. 'Anyone else who might have a grudge?'

Hermione shook her head. 'Not that I know of. I get along well with Abbott, Pyke, Cadwallader and Williams. They accepted me as an equal. Also, I don't have any problems with the girls from the secretary pool or the assistants.'

'What about Frudge?' Harry asked. 'Daphne and I talked to him when we walked to the laboratory, and I had the impression he was still pretty pissed that Ginny divorced him. What if he messed with your cauldron to get revenge?'

'Isn't that rather far fetched?' Hermione asked with a snort.

Ron, however, shook his head. 'You'd be surprised, love, what silly notions make people become angry and cause bodily harm. Last week we had to deal with someone who blasted a Muggle into a wall because he looked at him in what he thought an offending way.'

He took some last notes and looked up. 'There's no way around it, we'll have to investigate the background of everyone who was in the laboratory on that day. Maybe we'll discover a yet unknown motive that way. Of course, there's also still the possibility someone from another department sneaked in undetected and messed around with Hermione's potion.'

Father put down his cutlery and dabbed his mouth. 'Excuse me for being blunt here, Ron, but with the relations between magical Britain and the other magical governments still strained, I suppose that it will not be easy for you to get information regarding Frudge and the Crogans through the official channels. May I offer the support of a private investigator I employ whenever I have to deal with delicate matters?'

Ron didn't bother to hide his relief. 'That would be very welcomed, Cyrus.'

He took a sip of his butterbeer. 'Until then, I'd like to re-enact the incident in the laboratory. Of course, I don't want the suspects to be there, I don't want to give away that we're investigating, so I'll bring some people along to take their place. Can we do that tomorrow after the usual work hours?'

Father agreed, and Daphne and Harry also nodded their consent.

'Good, then that's settled,' Ron said. 'I hope we can keep this investigation under the rug, but I won't get my hopes up high. Too many people know about what happened, and there is always someone to blab.'

His words turned out to be prophetic. Next morning's issue of _The Daily Prophet _made it clear that someone had to have blabbed. Skeeter somehow had found out that Daphne's stay in St Mungo's had been caused by an accident that included Hermione's exploding cauldron. She didn't need more to bodge an article that posed the question of an adulterous affair between Harry and Hermione, with Daphne being the pitiable victim of Hermione's jealousy. At the end of the article she speculated why Hermione had not yet been laid off for her attack, and gave the answer by insinuating that Hermione must have a protector very high up in the ranks of the company - Harry, of course -, with a reference to another article inside of the paper that dealt with how Hermione had slept her way to the top.

'Damn that woman,' Harry said, and Vanished the newspaper with a flick of his wand.

Daphne had read the article over his shoulder, her face next to his. She gave him a small kiss on the cheek to calm him down and straightened.

'Instead of pampering me yesterday you should've prepared a press statement with Father.'

Harry put an arm around her waist and pulled her on his lap. 'And leave you to your brooding? No way, darling. I'll deal with Skeeter today. Our attorneys will love the new case, I'm sure. With a little luck we can use this blatant slander to push through a new law against slander under the pretext of the freedom of the press.'

She slid her arms around his neck. 'You've become so sly, honey.'

He grinned up at her. 'Actually, I prefer cunning.'

They laughed, and a short while later Harry left the house.

The house seemed dull and dark without him. However, there was no way she'd succumb once again to her grief and despair.

She walked out into the garden, towards the garage where they also kept their gardening tools. She gathered what she'd need for today, and even put on a pair of gardening gloves to protect her hands, mindful of Healer Payne's words, not to mention what Harry would have to say if he caught her without them.

A small giggle escaped her lips. He'd probably give her a piece of his mind anyway, if he saw her right now. His last words to her before he left the house had been about to rest and take it easy. Oh well, she had to make sure to be back in the house, showered and well groomed, before he returned from work. He'd have his hands full today, so he most likely wouldn't return before late in the evening.

With a little tune on her lips, she walked to the rose bushes to cut off the wilted blossoms.

As always when she was in her garden, she lost track of the time. Kreacher had almost forced her to take a break for lunch, but her appetite had not yet returned, and she'd Vanished most of the delicious sandwich he'd prepared for her.

Of course, Harry had to find her in the garden, sweaty and earth-stained. He walked towards her, a deep frown on his face.

'I thought you were going to rest today,' he said, and greeted her with a kiss.

She returned his kiss. 'Actually, you said I should rest today, but I never agreed to that.' She cast a surreptitious look on her wristwatch. Why did he have to finish work on time today? He hardly ever did, however, she should have expected this, as concerned as he had been about her.

The frown on his face deepened.

'Don't give me that look, honey. You know that gardening always helps me to relax and cope with problems. It was just what I needed today.'

He deflated and put an arm around her waist. 'If you say so. I'm just worried about you.'

A warm feeling spread in her chest, and she snuggled against him. 'You know, I'm a big girl, Harry, but it's nice to know that you care.'

'Always,' he said, and dropped a kiss on her head.

Her heart made a flip-flop, and she held her breath. That was as close as he'd ever come to admit how he felt for her in all those years of their marriage. He'd never told her how he felt for her, not as they'd made love for the first time, or as she'd told him of her pregnancy, and not even yesterday. Sure, he always showered her with physical affection, and his behaviour indicated that she was important to him, but he never talked about it.

Oh well, she'd resigned long ago to the fact that he was incapable to reflect on his feelings and express them. And yet …

She cast him a look from under her eyelashes, and her heart beat so loud he had to hear it. Was he going to say more?

He gave her his devastating smile and dropped another kiss on her head.

Her shoulders slumped. She was a fool to hope for something he obviously was incapable of saying - or maybe even to feel. Merlin knew his upbringing had been bad enough to turn him into a monster. It was a miracle he was that tender and caring, and she knew that she really shouldn't look for something he couldn't give her.

'It's about time to meet with Ron and the rest of our friends at headquarters,' he said.

Daphne nodded and pulled off her gardening gloves. 'I'd better get ready then.'

She put her tools back and showered and dressed after that. Thirty minutes later she and Harry stood in the laboratory, together with Ron, Hermione, Fleur, Bill, Lisa, Justin, Father, George, and the Weasley parents.

There was a lot of talking going on; everyone wanted to make sure she had recovered and give her a hug, even Mrs Weasley, although the Weasley matron still had not warmed up to her the way she did to Hermione and Fleur, and always seemed to regard her with silent reservation.

Ron clapped into his hands to get their attention. 'Alright, everybody, in your places. Harry, Hermione, Daphne, please go to where you stood when the cauldron exploded. You'll have to tell me where the other inhabitants of the room where at that point.'

There was no trace of the amicable friend on his face. His lips were pursed in concentration, and his eyes were cool and alert. This was Ron Weasley in full Auror mood, and all of a sudden she understood why he'd climbed through the ranks that fast, and had been promoted Senior Auror not even two years after his graduation; it was like he had been born for the role.

Without an objection she walked to the place at Hermione's work table where she had stood on Monday. Hermione stood on the other side of the table, and Harry took his place at the next work table, turned to her, as he had been on Monday. His head tilted to one side, he never let her out of his sight.

She gave him what she thought was a reassuring smile, and leaned against the table, like she'd done on Monday. Her heartbeat quickened, and her armpits became wet. This was harder than she'd thought before.

A frown appeared on Harry's face, and he made a move as if he was going to leave his place and come over to her, but he was held back by a question from Ron.

'Harry, where was Pince?'

Daphne blended them out, and put her hands on the flat of the table before her. Why was the room swaying like the deck of a ship?

Hermione put a hand on her arm, and the swaying stopped. 'Are you alright, Daphne?'

She took a deep breath. "No" would have been the honest answer, but instead she smiled at her friend. 'I'll manage.'

The look Hermione gave her indicated she doubted just that. Thanks Merlin she didn't pester her with more questions or well meaning advice. Even Hermione had learned a thing or two since she had close female friends for the first time in her life. Instead, she began talking about their stay in France. Of course, that also was a bitter-sweet memory now, given that she'd lost the baby she'd most likely conceived there. But it had been a happy time, and soon she told Hermione about their stay in Paris.

From the corner of her eyes she watched Ron setting up stage.

Father stood next to Harry, obviously playing Pince. Next to him were Fleur and Bill in the places of Anne and John Crogan, and then came George, who had taken the place of Cadwallader, and Justin as Elias Frudge.

Mr Weasley stood at Williams' work table, and Lisa and Mrs Weasley took the places of Abbott and Pyke in the glass cubicle.

Ron walked from group to group, a frown on his face, and studied how they related to Hermione's cauldron and the leftover ingredients on the work tables of Abbott and Pyke. He pulled a shrunken camera out of the pockets of his robes, enlarged it, and took pictures. Then he turned to Harry.

'You looked into Daphne's direction. Did you notice anyone in your group doing the same?'

A small blush tainted Harry's cheeks. 'Uhm … no. To be honest, I didn't pay them much heed.'

A sharp pain went through Daphne. She remembered every detail of that moment. She'd been so happy, and Harry had shown so much care - it had been one of these moments when she was sure he felt more for her than he even knew himself. And then the cauldron had exploded and destroyed all her dreams.

Tears shot into her eyes, and streamed down her face the next second. She gasped, and her legs seemed to give out under her.

'It's alright, darling,' a soft voice whispered in her ear, and strong arms held her upright.

Harry! Where had he come from so fast? She clung to him and buried her head at his shoulder, while her body shook with her sobs.

Part of her registered that their friends and family had gathered in the glass cubicle to give them more privacy, but she couldn't care less right now.

The door of the main entrance to the laboratory opened.

'Oh, sorry,' a familiar voice said.

The door closed again, but Daphne didn't care as a new wave of pain washed over her.

_t.b.c._


	12. Chapter 12

_ **London, August 2003** _

He banged the door of his elegant flat shut behind himself. Let the neighbours complain about his behaviour, he didn't care. He strolled into his study and slumped down in the comfortable chair next to the window that overlooked Hyde Park. Today, however, he had no eye for the beauty of the view.

He should've expected they would investigate the incident, discreetly, of course. However, the fact Potter brought his Auror friend into the investigation was a sure sign they suspected foul play. He hadn't counted on them drawing that conclusion so soon.

Damn it, the whore had looked to have all but recovered completely, so the healers must have brewed an antidote. That meant they also knew about the frog poison. Shit!

He leaned forward and covered his face with the palms of his hands. His breath came in quick gasps. How close on his heels were they?

The events from Monday played before his inner eye once again. Had he somehow given himself away?

He took a deep breath and let his hands sink down on to his lap.

No, Potter, his whore and the Mudblood had all been concentrating on something else. Same was true for Frudge, his partners and Pince. Their eyes had been glued to the cauldron with the experimental shampoo when he had performed the silent Switching Spell on the Mudblood's Alihotsy leaves. Abbott and Pyke had been far away, and engrossed in their discussion.

Most likely they'd think it was someone letting off steam against the bushy-headed Mudblood. It was only natural that one of the female assistants would be jealous of her accomplishments, wouldn't it? The assistants knew enough about their potions to know that every exchange of an ingredient could lead to an exploding cauldron, but not enough to grasp the possibilities of the poisonous ingredients Abbott and Pyke had worked with.

It could be claimed as an unfortunate accident, an attempt to sabotage the Mudblood gone horribly wrong. An assistant would be fired, and he would be out of the woods.

There was probably going to be a hearing of the witnesses soon. Maybe he could drop a hint there … Yes, that would do.

Damn, he had squandered his opportunity for an easy kill of Potter's whore. It would be foolishness on his part to try again anything like that anytime soon at Crystal Fairy's.

He'd have to rely on the method he'd used in Paris: employ his elves to find out where Potter and his whore were, and strike again in the Muggle world.

_t.b.c._


	13. Chapter 13

_ **London, Headquarters of Crystal Fairy, August 2003** _

It was good to be back at work, good to have a normal routine again. With a deep, satisfied sigh Daphne sat down at her desk on Monday.

Harry hadn't been at all happy about her decision to return to work only a week after the attack, but had relented in the end. However, the fierce hug and lingering kiss he'd given her before he'd left the house for a meeting at the company's Muggle bank said a lot about his concern for her.

Thank Merlin he'd be stuck at the bank for most of the day. As much as she'd basked in his solicitude in the first days after she woke up and discovered her loss, the worst was now behind her - well, at least she hoped so. She had to move on, and the most sensible thing she could do was to keep herself occupied.

A small smile flickered over her face. Harry didn't agree at all with the latter sentiment. If he had had his way, he would've wrapped her up in cotton wool with a nice pink bow on top and waited on her hand and foot.

She was blessed to have such a sweet and caring husband, however, the residual pregnancy hormones in her system had her on edge; she would resent each of his attempts to shelter her when all she wanted was to go back to work to be distracted from her loss. Thank Merlin he'd be away most of the day, or today they were very likely to have one of their very rare, but also very explosive fights.

Daphne let out a sigh. She still wasn't her usual calm self, she was jumpy and prone to easy tears, the relaxing weekend she and Harry had spent with Tori and Mother and Father at the family vacation home near Nice hadn't changed that.

She looked at the small pile of mail on her desk. Someone had dealt with the stacks she remembered from Monday, and had left her only the mail she absolutely needed to see, and her personal mail. That had probably been Father; Harry had stayed with her at the hospital until she woke up, he wouldn't have had the time to work on her mail, too. She let out another sigh. Why couldn't the pile be at least twice as high? At least then she would've been occupied all day long.

Only a few hours later, she'd finished answering the last letter. Now all there was left were a few letters that were marked "Personal".

The first four letters were the usual account statements from Gringotts and their Muggle bank for their vaults and respective accounts. By a silent agreement in the first weeks of their marriage it had become her job to plan their private budget. As scrupulous as Harry was when it came to the financial part of Crystal Fairy's, she doubted he ever took a look on his private statements more than twice a year.

She opened the accounting programme for their personal expenses on their pc and made the necessary entries.

How did wealthy witches and wizards without access to Muggle technology handle their financial affairs? It had to be a pain in the behind to have to make all the entries by quill on parchment, and to be forced to do all the additions and subtractions by hand.

Thank Merlin they had the latest Muggle office equipment in the Muggle part of Fairy Crystal's, and the Goblins were very accommodating to make Muggle technology work in high magical areas - in exchange for a hefty fee, of course - so she'd grown up with everything the Muggleborns took for granted, like telephones and tvs, and it hadn't been difficult to persuade Harry to get them electricity and telephone at Grimmauld Place.

The next was an invitation to a party to celebrate the hundredth anniversary of a company run by a Muggle business acquaintance. A snigger escaped her lips. Oh, Harry would so love that - not. However, there was no way around it, they had to go. She pulled a sheet of stationary towards her, accepted the invitation, and added her RSVP to the outgoing mail pile.

This was followed by an offer to join the board of a Muggle charitable organisation. She sighed, these invitations had become a fairly common occurrence ever since she'd graduated in May. Many Muggle women with her background devoted a lot of their time to charity, and as good as none of them held a full-time job. It was similar in the magical world for wealthy Pureblood women. However, her time for these events and meetings was scarce, due to her job. Between Father, Harry and herself they had agreed that she'd only work for charities that would benefit the reputation of Crystal Fairy. She'd already joined the board of Mother's Golden Apple Foundation, and had time for maybe one or two others if they agreed the fit was right.

She penned a short note for father, attached the proposal with a paperclip, and put it into the basket for interoffice memos. Fleur or Lisa would get it on its way sometime during the day. She wanted to have his and Harry's thoughts on the offer before she made a decision.

Her thoughts wandered back to a discussion she'd had with Harry on this topic while they were still in France for the weekend.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise to her that Hermione knew of the long-time repercussions the antidote had for her fertility. Her friend was a brilliant potion mistress, and she had helped to brew the antidote, after all. Hermione had pulled her aside on Friday night, when they were about to leave the laboratory, and told her she was already working on a potion to counteract the side effects of the antidote. It was plain to see by the way her friend cast her eyes to the ground and worried her lower lips that she felt somehow responsible for what had happened.

She had been touched, and so was Harry when she told him. However, they had both agreed they'd never tell their friends about the baby she had lost; that would only increase Hermione's feelings of guilt tenfold, and they didn't want to do that to her.

In addition, Hermione's research had given them the idea to found something like Golden Apple in the magical world, to fund research into infertility, something that still was blamed solely on women without another thought in the magical world. She snorted; Merlin save the Pureblood chauvinists idiots from having to admit there might be such a thing as male infertility. However, they needed to start with research into the female side, or they'd never garner support. Eventually they'd expand their research into male fertility, but they'd probably be forced to keep that a secret.

With a sigh, she returned to her mail. The last letter was a plain, brown envelope, with the address typed on it. Daphne turned the letter in her had; it had no sender's name and address. Something about the letter made the hairs at the nape of her neck stand up, and she let her wand slid out of her holster and cast the diagnostic charms on it Harry had taught her a few weeks into their marriage.

The letter gave off the faint green glow that indicated it was safe to open it. Daphne tore the letter open, reached inside with her hand and pulled a sheet of stiff paper out of it. She looked down at the paper and gasped.

It was a magical photo.

The photo of a man and a woman at a table in a secluded corner of a posh restaurant, going by the crystal chandelier that hung over the table and cast a warm light over the white porcelain, the opulent silverware and the crystal goblets that filtered the light and strew hundreds of tiny reflections on the rich damask tablecloth and napkins. The man had one arm stretched out on the table; the woman had put her hand on his and looked up at him with a seductive smile on her lips and an unmistakable invitation in her chocolate brown eyes. Her thick, red mane flowed over one shoulder, a beautiful contrast to her bottle green robes of finest Acromantula silk and the sparkling emeralds in her ears.

The bitch, Merlin damn her.

The bitch, who was fondling Harry's hand.

A bout of dizziness overcame her; she leaned back in her chair and took a deep, shuddering breath. She let the photo drop on her desk and stared into space.

So, that was what he'd been up to in New York? She'd at once recognised the opulent setting as the restaurant of _The Palace Hotel; _she'd been there often enough when she accompanied Father on his business trips to New York before her marriage.

What had happened after that intimate dinner? Had he taken the bitch to a room in the hotel and …?

She took another deep breath. Was Harry able to cheat on her and play the tender and caring husband afterwards? He'd been so devoted ever since his return from his trip; they'd had the happiest time and the darkest time of their marriage within the span of not even a week, and made it through this time supporting and comforting each other. Could he be such a two-timing bastard?

Daphne shook her head. No, not her Harry; something didn't add up here. She straightened, picked up the photo, and took another look, this time, however, she concentrated on Harry's reaction.

There was no doubt about it, he was tense and made a miniscule movement with his arm, as if he was about to draw his hand away. His face was a bland mask, the kind of face he had developed for social gatherings he didn't want to attend, but couldn't avoid. She squinted, trying to pick up every minor detail. Wasn't there an almost invisible grim line around his mouth, as if he'd love to utter a scathing remark and held himself back for politeness' sake?

She took another look. Yes, he wasn't comfortable with the situation at all.

Daphne let out a deep breath. He must have somehow run into the Weaselette during the time he spent in New York and couldn't avoid to have dinner with her. Or maybe he even thought he owed it to her because of their shared history. It probably was his idea of chivalry; Merlin only knew how his Gryffindor brain sometimes worked, she certainly wasn't able to understand it. Well, it wasn't a problem between them, their different character traits complemented each other, and yet they still shared enough traits to have a solid common ground.

She studied the photo some more. It seemed to have been taken by a professional, though there was no name or copyright on the back. Also, Harry didn't seem to be aware that his picture was taken.

A paparazzi photo, then.

Who could have sent it to her anonymously?

A small snort escaped her lips. The answer was obvious, wasn't it? Someone who wanted to mess with her marriage, and who knew Harry well enough not to make that rendez-vous common knowledge. Merlin, she didn't have to overexert her brain to come up with a name that fit the bill.

Her eyes narrowed as she stared at the Weaselette in the picture. So, the bitch still was trying to manipulate her and get between her and Harry. Why, after all these years? Of course, she was free at the moment and probably on the hunt for rich husband number three. Obviously, the bitch still hadn't given up on getting Harry in her clutches.

Well, it took two to tango, and Harry didn't seem to be willing to play along, thank Circe for that!

She let out another deep breath. Should she confront Harry about the photo, tell him that she knew he met the Weaselette in New York? What would be gained by that, except a very embarrassing conversation between Harry and her that would disturb the carefully maintained peace they had reached over the Weaselette? No, it would be better to pretend she was blind and deaf. Mother and Miss Ogden were spot on with their advice: some things were better never mentioned.

True, she had a jealous streak when it came to other women ogling Harry, and never hesitated to let him know. Deep down her chivalrous Gryffindor was flattered by that, and it never hurt to bolster your husband's ego. The Weaselette, however, was an entirely different matter: she was the only woman who posed a danger to their marriage. No, it was better not to acknowledge her meddling and give her power.

She put the photo back into the envelope and Banished it to a hidden compartment in her desk at Grimmauld Place, her mouth set in a grim line.

Even though she had no doubt that Harry was faithful to her, this little episode was a painful reminder that he still wasn't completely over the Weaselette, or he would have told her about the encounter. What in the world did Harry see in that tart that a part of him was still holding the torch for her after all these years?

_t.b.c._


	14. Chapter 14

_ **London, Ministry of Magic, December 2005** _

The hearing regarding Lucius Malfoy's second attempt for probation, after he had served three quarters of his sentence, attracted almost as many spectators as his original trial seven and a half year ago.

Harry let his eyes wander around the crowded tiers of the biggest courtroom in the Ministry for Magic, while he waited for the panel of judges to come to a decision. The noise in the circular room was deafening, and in spite of the Wide Area Cooling Charms that were placed on the courtroom, the air was stifling and hot because far too many people were crammed together during the long hours of the hearing.

A bead of sweat trickled down between Harry's shoulder blades, and he renewed the Cooling Charm he had cast on himself not even thirty minutes ago.

He had received a summons to attend the hearing, together with Cyrus. After all, they were both heads of the families Malfoy had threatened with retaliation immediately after he'd been sentenced to ten years in Azkaban. He had given his statement earlier that morning, and then taken a seat in the stands, curious to find out the outcome.

Next to him, Ron and Cyrus were in an animated discussion about the funding requests for the Auror department that had been included in the Ministry budget for 2006 fiscal year. These applications were going to be voted on by the Wizengamot in the upcoming week. Harry suppressed a snort as he observed them; it was hard to believe that this was the same Ron who'd had no other thoughts in his head than Quidditch, wizarding chess, and how to avoid his homework during their Hogwarts time, and who now gave Cyrus a detailed explanation what was needed in the Auror department, complete with the numbers.

The door to the adjudication room opened, and the panel of judges came out. Harry poked Ron in the side with his elbow to remind him to stand up.

'What?' Ron sputtered, and looked up. 'Oh, right.' He scrambled to his feet.

The presiding judge banged the gavel for quiet in the room. In the press section, Rita Skeeter bent forward, her Quick Quotes Quill at the ready, and licked her lips.

Harry pursed his lips, mindful not to let show his revulsion on his face. Rita had become more vulture like with each passing year since the Battle of Hogwarts. Thank Merlin, she pretty much left him alone these days; she had other fish to fry. Not to mention that nowadays he was backed up by new laws against slander and libel they had managed to push through the Wizengamot after Skeeter's slanderous article about Hermione two years ago. Added to this was the Public Relations department at Crystal Fairy: they were more than capable in dealing with the likes of Rita Skeeter. The last echelon of his bolstered defenses were his and Daphne's personal assistants, Lisa and Fleur, who up to this point in time had been impossible for Rita to overcome, much to her resentment.

The presiding judge cleared his throat. 'The petition for probation is hereby denied.'

Whispers and muted cries of triumph ran around the room. The presiding judge sat down; his movement was mirrored by the other judges and the audience. He banged the gavel to restore order in the room, pulled a sheet of parchment out of his robes and began to read out the reasons for the decision of the court.

Harry tuned him out. His eyes fell on Lucius Malfoy who sat next to his attorney in the middle of the room.

At first glance, Lucius hadn't changed much. His hair was still long and light, but it had lost its gleam, and the white blond colour had given room to the white hair of an old man, even though he wasn't much older than fifty-two, a still young age for a wizard. Then again, Azkaban would do that to you; even with the dementors gone it was still a hell of a nasty place.

As if he felt Harry's eyes on him, Lucius turned around. His eyes, sunken deep into his skull, seemed to bore into Harry with a hatred that was still as fresh and burning as it had been on the day of his sentence.

Next to Harry, Ron gasped. 'He hasn't changed one bit. I knew all the grovelling he did in front of the panel was nothing more than a steaming pile of dragon dung.'

Harry gave a noncommittal nod, while he reciprocated Malfoy's stare with a cold, unmoving stare of his own, and didn't allow his gaze to waiver until Malfoy turned his eyes away.

The judge brought is reading of the verdict to an end, and the hearing was closed. As the Aurors came to lead Malfoy out of the courtroom and back to his cell in Azkaban, Harry let himself be pushed out of the room by the crowd, Ron and Cyrus next to him.

Ron pulled out his wand and cast a privacy charm around them. There was a grim line around his mouth.

'I think, mate, that you'd better arrange for private security for Daphne and yourself. That also pertains to you and your family, Cyrus. Merlin only knows to what Malfoy will get up to after his petition for probation has been declined for a second time.'

Cyrus nodded his agreement.

Harry sighed. 'Is that really necessary, Ron? I swear, ever since you became Senior Auror, you've become almost as paranoid as Moody.'

Ron's earlobes turned pink, still a sure sign of his anger, even though he had learned to reign in his infamous Weasley temper over the last more than seven years since the Battle of Hogwarts.

'Do I need to remind you of the many close calls that you and Daphne have had ever since he was sent to Azkaban? There was first the attack in Paris, then the attack on Daphne at Crystal Fairy's -'

'Merlin, Ron, those attacks were five years apart and had no connection to each other. Your department never found out who was behind that. You weren't even sure if the attack at Crystal Fairy Beauty was actually aimed at Daphne,' Harry said.

Ron gave him a withering side glance. 'I know, there were just too many suspects and motives. Pince, wanting to get rid of Hermione, plus his little spat with Daphne and you; Frudge blaming you for his divorce from Ginny and maybe wanting to take out his anger on Hermione. Hell, even the Crogans had enough of a motive to get back at you; given their discrete monetary support of the supremacism movement in the USA, a movement that donated gold to Voldemort during the war. There was also that lab assistant Prince repeatedly overlooked for promotions and who had a huge grudge against the company and its management. I get it, you're right, there's nothing concrete enough to nail it down to one person. Thanks for rubbing that in, mate.' The frustration about the thorough investigation of Daphne's poisoning two years ago that didn't result in enough evidence to put anyone at court was palpable in his voice.

He took a deep breath. 'Bloody hell, Harry, I'm asking you to trust me when I say that I just know it deep in my bones that you and Daphne are in danger. Let's not also forget that the number of near misses you and Daphne have had seems to have escalated since then.'

He counted on his fingers. 'Remember the holidays we took in Tyrol in the winter after Daphne's accident? Hermione persuaded us to go skiing, and we were almost caught by that avalanche? Or what about the crash you and Daphne had on the way from Grimmauld Place to Daphne's parents because of a failure in the traffic light circuit? You both would've been dead, if you hadn't just bought that new car with the side airbags, and reinforced it with additional Safety Spells. Or what about the time you managed to Apparate Daphne and yourself away just in time to avoid a collapsing scaffold?'

'These were all freak accidents, Ron,' Harry said. 'You know that accidents happen.'

'They tend to happen quite often around you, mate.' Ron now openly glared at him, and his earlobes glowed like two beacons.

Harry caught a movement with the corner of his eyes: Rita Skeeter turned her head towards them. A delighted smile, as if Christmas had come early, spread over her face.

He gave an inward groan. Great, he could already see tomorrow's headline of _The Daily Prophet:_

**Chosen One Fights With Auror in Ministry.**

He put a hand on Ron's arm. 'I appreciate your concern, Ron, but not here and now.' He jerked his head into Skeeter's direction with a miniscule movement.

Ron's eyes followed. 'Oh. Right. Sorry 'bout that, I got carried away.' He pressed his lips together, took a deep breath and forced himself to relax.

'You know, son, I think Ron has a point.'

Harry jerked his head to his father-in-law. 'Not you, too!' This time, his groan was audible.

'Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action,' Cyrus said. Neither his face, not his voice lost its calm.

'And it didn't stop at that, did it? What about the rope bridge accident you and Daphne were involved in last year in Italy? I don't remember how many Muggles died that day; you could easily have been among them, hadn't you Apparated away in time. Or the Muggle who ran amok in Munich, shooting everywhere he could see with one of their guns. You could've easily been hit, just like any of the poor Muggles he killed, if you hadn't been able to conjure a brick wall in front of you to block the bullets. Not to mention that rabid dog that tried to bite you and Daphne during your holidays in Croatia.'

They had reached the forum of the Ministry as they continued to talk. The monument that had been erected after Voldemort's takeover of the Ministry of Magic had been demolished immediately after the Battle of Hogwarts, but the Fountain of Magical Bethren hadn't been reinstalled. In its stead now stood a white marble obelisk, with the names of the many victims of both wars, human and not-human, etched into it in golden letters. Today a garland of evergreens with red bows was wrapped around it in celebration of the upcoming Yuletide.

Harry shook his head. 'That all were accidents, in no way connected to each other.'

'And I think that's exactly what we're supposed to think,' Ron said.

'I know your opinion, Ron, but you've investigated each time and never found a connection to Lucius Malfoy. Besides that, I can't see how he could've staged all these attacks out of Azkaban.'

Cyrus cleared his throat. 'He couldn't have, but his son never was sent to Azkaban, he got away with community service and a probation period, as far as I remember.'

'There's no way Malfoy is behind that, Cyrus,' Harry said. 'You don't know him as well as I do; he doesn't have it in him to kill someone.'

'I agree on the latter part, Harry,' Ron said. 'However, I think Malfoy would have no qualms hiring someone to do the job. The amount of accidents you and Daphne have had is just the way a clever hired assassin would act.' He drew air quotes with his fingers around the word "accidents". 'One day he'll go too far, and we'll find him, and then you'll have to admit I was right all along, mate.'

Harry startled, and he gaped at his friend. 'You're kidding. Assassins use guns, or probably the Killing Curse in case of wizards.'

Ron snorted at that. 'You've seen too many muggle films, Harry. They'd do that if they wanted to get caught. The most successful assassins are those who manage to arrange a lethal accident without drawing any attention to themselves. Everything that happened to you can easily be arranged by a halfway competent wizard. Think about it!' He slapped Harry on the shoulder.

Harry slumped. 'Alright, I'll talk to Daphne about it. I don't think she'll be thrilled about the idea of personal security.'

'Oh, then it's as good as done. Daphne will agree to anything to protect you, and Daphne always gets what she wants.' A huge grin spread over Ron's face. 'You're so whipped!'

Harry gave him his best cold stare. 'I'll have you to know that Daphne and I will decide together on that matter, after a careful evaluation of the situation, of course.'

'Whatever lets you sleep at night, mate.' Ron grinned and winked at Cyrus.

Cyrus kept a calm face under Harry's glare, even though the corners of his mouth quivered slightly. At least he had the good sense to keep his mouth shut.

They had reached the Apparition Point. Harry gave a nod to his father-in-law.

'See you tomorrow in the office.'

'And don't be late for our Christmas party tonight, or Hermione will have your hide and mine, even though I have just reminded you again,' Ron called as he stepped into the circle.

Harry nodded in reply, turned on the spot and Apparated away.

He appeared on the topmost stair of the stairs in front of Grimmauld Place number twelve, safely within the Unplottable and the Fidelius Charms he had cast on the house the summer after the war. Over the course of the last seven years he had added more wards, giving them both additional peace of mind that they had a secure private residence. He was confident that there was no way someone could get to Daphne or himself behind the safety their house provided.

He tapped his wand against the black oak door and pushed it open, still lost in his thoughts.

The accidents hadn't happened in their house, nor - now that he thought of it - even when they were in the magical world. They had all happened in the Muggle world, the place where he and Daphne felt safe and free because the few Death Eaters that were still on the run were unlikely to go there, plus they could just be Daphne and Harry there instead of the hottest celebrity couple of the magical world.

A soft _Plop _by his side yanked him out of his thoughts. Winky had appeared beside him, and helped him out of his winter cloak.

Kreacher had asked him for permission to marry Winky two years ago, and he had happily obliged. Who was he to deny the old elf some happiness? Added to this, Winky seemed to thrive after she had bonded with the House of Potter, and got pregnant soon after.

Little did he know back then this would be Kreacher's last service to him: he had wanted to make sure that his master and mistress were well cared for by an elf of his descendant. He had lived just long enough to see Winky giving birth to twins, two or three being the average number of children of an elf pregnancy, he had learned from Daphne. The younglings were now a little over one year old, and since house elves matured much faster than humans they would want to begin working in the house next year.

'Mistress bes in the family room,' Winky told him formally and popped away.

Harry walked downstairs to the cosy room where he and Daphne spent most of their free time when they were at Grimmauld Place, and stopped on the threshold.

Dusk was already falling behind the huge bay window that looked out onto the sunken patio and the rockery that encircled it. The room was lit up by a merry fire crackling in the fireplace, and an abundance of Everlasting Candles burning in the small crystal chandelier that hung from the ceiling and in the sconces on the walls around the room. The light of the candles was reflected and magically enhanced by a mirror over the mantle of the fireplace.

The invigorating smell of fresh pine permeated the room. Daphne stood on the window seat, directing Christmas ornaments with her wand to the top of the tall Christmas tree she had put up in front of the bay window. She was dressed in jeans and a casual sweater that would ride up whenever she lifted her arm above her head, showing a tantalizing flash of flesh. She had pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck. A few strands had escaped and now framed her glowing face in the most charming way.

About a dozen open boxes with Christmas ornaments were scattered on the sofa, the low coffee table and the window seat, which told of a day full of hard work to get the house decorated for Christmas. There was a garland on the mantelpiece, and he thought he had seen similar garlands at the front windows when he Apparated in.

She was so focussed on her work she didn't notice him at the door. The tip of her tongue protruded slightly when she Levitated the last ornament - a fairy dressed in golden robes - to the top of the tree, and there was a small smudge of dirt across the brink of her nose.

He'd bet his beloved Nimbus 3000 that she'd crawled around the attic to gather the boxes with the ornaments herself instead of sending Winky. She just had too much fun getting the house ready for Christmas and insisted on doing most of the work herself.

He watched her with a smile on his face. She was so beautiful and caring; what on earth had he done to deserve her?

He stepped into the room. 'Need some help?'

Daphne jerked her head around, and her face lit up. 'Harry!' She jumped down from the window seat and rushed towards him.

He met her halfway and gave her a kiss in greeting.

Daphne linked her arms with his and pulled him towards the sofa. 'You are rather late,' she said and sat down. 'What took you so long?'

Harry sat down next to her and put his arm around her shoulder. 'Sorry, darling; the judges took ages to come to a decision. Afterwards, it was hard to get to the Apparition point; the courtroom was crowded, it seemed as if half of the magical population of the British Islands wanted to witness the hearing.'

'Or they wanted to see the Chosen One giving evidence,' Daphne said with a shrewd side glance at him. 'How did it go?'

'Malfoy is shipped back in Azkaban for the last quarter of his sentence as we speak. However, now Ron's fretting that he'll try to attack us through an assassin and wants us to hire personal security.' He told her the main points of his talk to Ron and Cyrus on their way out of the Ministry.

Daphne listened without interrupting him, though the frown on her face became deeper with each word he said.

'What do you think of Ron's theory?' he asked her finally.

She didn't answer at once, but worried her lower lip between her teeth.

'Well, I can't blame him for being cautious, when grouped together like that, his hypothesis has some merit,' she said at length. 'Although, the idea our accidents might have been assassinations sounds rather farfetched to me. And I doubt Malfoy would go to such lengths. From what I understand his coffers are empty, at least that's what my sources are saying, and I have no reason not to believe them. He wouldn't be able to pay for six attempted assassinations.'

'Exactly my thoughts,' Harry said and hugged her towards himself. There was no doubt her estimation of the Malfoy wealth was right; she still kept connections to her former housemates, one Pansy McLaggen nee Parkinson in particular. According to Daphne she was as bad a gossip as Lavender and Parvati, and always well informed.

'So, no private security?' He raised an inquiring eyebrow at his wife.

She scrunched up her adorable nose. 'I'd rather not. As it is, our privacy is already rather limited, with you being the Chosen One. Even in the Muggle world we aren't exactly nobodies, due to the wealth of our families. Our outings in the Muggle world and the holidays we take together are the last bit of privacy and freedom we have. I don't want to give that up, and have body guards tagging along.'

'I agree wholeheartedly,' he said and gave her a peck on the cheek.

Daphne bent forward and picked up a mug with a steaming liquid from the coffee table that emitted a pleasant smell of licorice and echinacea, and took a tentative sip. Her face lit up. 'That's not bad for a healing potion.'

'Another one of Hermione's brews?'

His wife nodded between sips. Hermione had made good on her promise to develop a potion that would counteract the antidote Daphne had to take after the attack and the effect that it had had on her fertility. Unfortunately, so far without success. In the beginning, they'd been full of hope. But when weeks turned into months and months into years, and their hopes had been crushed again and again, they'd learned to deal with the disappointment. It wasn't easy, especially when Fleur and Lisa announced last month they were expecting again. Hermione, however, refused to give up, and had become more insistent ever since they had set up a foundation to cover her research. Each three months she'd bring Daphne another potion, and each time they'd hope that maybe a miracle would happen.

They settled into a comfortable silence while they snuggled on the sofa and watched the merrily dancing flames in the fireplace.

The chiming of the grandfather clock in the ground floor hallway interrupted their time of relaxation. Daphne got up and stretched.

'Five o'clock already. We'd better get ready for Hermione's christmas party. She'll never let us hear the end if we're late!' She pulled out her wand and Banished the empty boxes that were scattered all over the room back to the attic.

Harry chuckled and also got to his feet. 'You're right; Ron gave me the stern warning not to be late, or else!'

They laughed and walked up to their bedroom to get ready.

Daphne took her sweet time to dress up, but the result, as always, was worth it. She wore a black sleeveless sheath cocktail dress with shining details around the high neckline that ran down at the sides of the dress as well and drew attention to her well formed, slim body. Slits on both sides of the dress gave him a good glimpse of her long legs. Her loose locks framed her face, the way he liked best, and even though she had put on more makeup than she usually wore, it was still only a light dusting compared to what some witches wore.

Harry let out a low, appreciative whistle when she came out of the dressing room.

'Like what you see?' She grinned and posed in front of him.

'You bet.' He leered at her as he closed the gap and put his arm around her waist. 'You're a sight for sore eyes, Mrs Potter.' After more than seven years of marriage he knew better than to mess with her hair or makeup when she had gone all out for a party, so he just pulled her towards him and dropped a kiss on the crown of her head. Maybe he'd get lucky after the party and would be allowed to unwrap her out of that exciting dress and have his wicked way with her.

Daphne leaned back in his arm and smoothed out an imagined fold on the front of his suit jacket. 'Get your mind out of the gutter, mister,' she whispered and gave him a butterfly kiss, mindful of her lipstick.

Damn, she knew him too well.

He mock-pouted at her, and she laughed out loud and grabbed his hand. 'Come on, honey, let's get going.'

In spite of all their efforts they were among the last guests to arrive. Hermione opened the door, resplendent in a black, empire style velvet dress, and rolled her eyes at them.

'It's all my wife's fault,' Harry said in his defense, and gave Daphne a wink. 'She took ages to get ready.'

Of course, he got a poke in the side and a not very subtle 'Prat!' from Daphne in return.

Hermione took their cloaks. 'Well, it was worth the effort. You look stunning, Daphne.'

'Right back at you, sister,' Daphne said and gave Hermione a hug. The two witches shared a few whispers.

Harry rolled his eyes, but grinned. He should've known they'd gang up against him the moment they met, and it would get worse as soon as Lisa and Fleur joined them. At least he was not alone in this; Ron, Justin and Bill also got their fair share of attention.

Hermione led them into the drawing room at the front of the house. It was already crowded with people. They greeted Ron, then exchanged a few words with Bill, Fleur, Lisa and Justin who stood together near the fireplace, before they made their rounds to greet the other guests.

Hermione and Ron had invited a mixture of old school friends and new colleagues from work, so Neville Longbottom and his wife Hannah were among the guests, as well as Luna Lovegood and her fiancé, the renowned Magizoologist Rolf Scamander. But there were also two blokes from the Auror department with their wives or girlfriends, and Hermione's colleagues Cadwallader and Williams.

In the two years he lived in England Williams had definitely been diligent about getting to know the witches of Magical Britain: each time he saw him at one of Hermione's parties or at an official event at Crystal Fairy, there was another girl on his arm. Cadwallader was not so popular with the witches, at least that was what the company rumour mill said, but Williams always asked his current girlfriend to provide a date for him.

The girls that were with them today looked vaguely familiar to Harry, and he drew his eyebrows together while he tried to come up with where he had seen their faces.

'Why that frown on your face, oh husband of mine?' Daphne asked, a glass of wine in her hand, and stepped beside him.

He gave an imperceptible nod to the two girls who sat between Cadwallader and Williams. 'I'm trying to figure out how I know those girl's faces, but I'm drawing a blank so far.'

Daphne had a much better memory for faces than he had. This time was no exception. 'They both work in the Portkey Department at the Ministry. You probably saw them there when you picked up a Portkey.' She took a sip of her drink. 'Though I don't think you'll have to put much effort in remembering their faces and names. You know Williams, he'll have another girlfriend in a couple of weeks, and she'll provide the date for Cadwallader for the next party.'

'You're probably right,' Harry replied, and allowed her to drag him away to the dining room, where dinner was served buffet style. After Daphne's appetite was satiated, they mingled with the other guests.

Harry listened with a small pang in his heart to Ron and his fellow Aurors sharing anecdotes from the Auror office. A slight smile played around his lips. There'd once been a time he'd dreamt of nothing else than becoming an Auror. Little had he known back then what life had in store for him.

A small hand stole in his, and Daphne nestled against him. 'Do you regret it?' she asked in a voice low enough not to be heard over the din in the room, and motioned with her chin towards Ron and the other Aurors.

He smiled down at her. 'Not at all.'

'Good.' Her eyes twinkled slightly as she raised on her tiptoes and kissed him.

'Oi, get a room!'

Harry had no intention in breaking his kiss with Daphne and flipped Bill the bird behind Daphne's back, which got him a chuckle in return.

A couple of hours later the party came to a close. Most guests had already left, and now he and Daphne were enjoying a quiet chat with Ron and Hermione in the cosy sitting room to unwind from the party.

Hermione sat somewhat rigidly snuggled up to her husband. A few stray strands had escaped from her elegant hairdo and now curled around her glowing face.

Harry smiled; his best friend and former bookworm surely had developed into a beautiful woman.

'Don't you think it's about time we tell them?' Hermione asked her husband. The slight catch in her voice and the strange light in her eyes when she looked up at Ron made Harry hold his breath. He narrowed his eyes slightly: a tenseness permeated her body that she was trying very hard to hide. What was troubling his friend?

Ron dropped a kiss on his wife's cheek. 'Go ahead, love. This is your big news.'

Daphne tensed in Harry's arm he had put around her shoulders and sat up. Her eyes became wide, and she let out a strange little squealing sound.

'Hermione, are you -?'

'Yes,' Hermione said with an almost beaming face, though her eyes flickered away from them both ever so slightly, and she wouldn't hold their gaze.

Daphne squealed again, sprung to her feet, and hugged first Hermione, then Ron. 'Congratulations, you two. I'm so happy for you.'

'Thank you, Daphne,' Hermione replied. Her eyes still didn't meet Daphne's. 'I'll do everything in my power to ensure that you'll soon be able to experience the same happiness,' she added in a lower voice.

Harry looked from his wife to his best friends. 'Will somebody please fill me in what's going on?'

Daphne plopped down beside him and gave him a playful punch in the shoulder. 'Hermione is pregnant, you clueless oaf.'

Something seemed to pull at his guts, and his hands twitched. It wasn't fair; why did everyone around them get to expand their families? Fleur was pregnant for a third time, and Lisa was also expecting again. And now even Ron and Hermione were about to start a family, all whilst Daphne and he had not only lost their baby, but after more than two years had passed they had to come to grips with the fact that Healer Payne's worst case scenario probably had come true: Daphne had failed to conceive ever since her potion induced miscarriage.

Next to him, Daphne grabbed for his hand and squeezed it. Her fingers trembled slightly.

He gave her a quick side glance.

She smiled, and seemed to be genuinely happy for Hermione and Ron, but there was also a brittleness to her smile, a sure sign that the news had gotten to her, too.

He returned the squeeze of her hand, gulped, and got up to hug Hermione and Ron.

'That's wonderful news.'

'We … ' Hermione hesitated slightly before starting again. 'We wanted to ask you if you want to become godparents,' Hermione said when he had sat down again.

Harry exchanged another glance with his wife. There it was again, that almost imperceptible line of strain around her mouth, and her eyes had darkened slightly. He put his arm around her shoulders and drew her towards him in a comforting hug.

'We'd be honoured,' he said, though his heart was heavy in his chest.

Daphne nodded to his words. He didn't have to look at her to know her thoughts.

Was being godparents to the children of their friends all that the future had in store for them?

They took their leave not long after that.

Daphne let go of his arm and walked into the bathroom to take off her makeup as soon as he had Apparated them into their bedroom. Her face, all smiles when they were at Ron and Hermione's house, had turned into a stony mask.

Harry sighed; he didn't need to be a Legilimens to know where her thoughts were heading. The news must've hit her even worse than him; for a reason he couldn't fathom she seemed to blame herself for their unintentional childlessness, he'd gathered this from the random remarks she'd made over the years whenever the touchy subject came up between them.

He pulled out his jacket, flung it over a chair, and followed his wife into the bathroom.

She was vigorously brushing her hair; it seemed to him that she was putting more effort into the task than it required, given the violent way she yanked the brush through her locks. There was a bright shine in her eyes.

He stepped behind her and took the brush out of her hand. 'Don't punish yourself, darling.'

Her chin trembled slightly, and she bit her lips, no doubt to try and hide her bout of sadness from him. As if he'd ever want her to do that!

He put the brush onto the washstand, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. They stood like that for a long time. Daphne didn't cry, but her whole body was tense, and she didn't return his hug.

After what seemed an eternity, she sighed; her body slumped against his, and she wrapped her arms around him. Whatever demon she had fought, she'd come out victorious.

He pulled her closer and dropped a kiss on her head she'd buried at his shoulder. They'd overcome the crisis - for now. But how many times more Daphne would be at the brink of despair because of their childlessness?

_t.b.c._


	15. Chapter 15

_ **December 22nd, 2005** _

The last day of work, before the company shut down for a short Christmas break, Cyrus stuck his head into Daphne and Harry's office.

'Do you two have a minute? There are a few things I wanted to talk about with you before I leave for France.'

Harry raised his head from the papers he was just reading, and motioned with his hand to one of the visitors chairs. 'Come in.'

Cyrus entered their office, sat down and crossed his legs. Daphne and Harry turned towards him.

Harry grinned at his father-in-law. 'I suppose you want to give us some last minute advice?'

Cyrus nodded, gracing them both with a small smile. 'Something like that, though I know you two will be more than up to the task to fill my place. Not to mention that I'm only a phone call away.'

During the last two years since they had begun working with Cyrus, he had started to take more time off to spend time with Isabella and Tori. Of course, he was sixty-five, an age when most Muggle men retired from work, even though as a wizard he didn't look like it. However, Cyrus' frequent time off had a lot to do with Tori's deteriorating health. It had become a fulltime job for Isabella to take care of her youngest daughter, and Cyrus wanted to be there for his wife and daughter as often as possible. They all knew that it would come to an end all too soon.

The cold and wet British winters were not agreeing with Tori, so they had decided that they would spend Christmas at the Greengrass vacation home near Nice. Cyrus, Isabella and Tori would leave tomorrow morning, while Daphne and Harry were obliged to attend to another Christmas party that night and would join them the day after for the traditional Greengrass family dinner on Christmas Eve. While they would return to London after the dinner and spend Christmas Day with the Weasleys, as it had become their tradition, Cyrus was planning on staying in France until well into January, while Isabella and Tori were going to spend the rest of winter there, with an assessment to be made later as to whether or not she would ever return to this side of the channel.

Cyrus filled them in on the latest state of the projects he had been working on.

Harry snorted. 'You do know that isn't really necessary, don't you? I've been working with you on most of this, and I've read all your memos. Don't worry, we'll do fine.'

'Yeah, I know. It's just …' Cyrus' voice trailed off, and he shrugged.

Harry raised his eyebrows, and he exchanged a look with his wife. Uneasiness was not an emotion he ever would've connected with his father-in-law.

'What's worrying you, Father?' Daphne asked in a soft voice.

Again, Cyrus shrugged. 'Worry is probably the wrong word. But over the years I've learned to trust my instincts, and right now I have the feeling that tough times are ahead of us.' He shifted in his seat and gave them both a strained smile.

'You know that I'm not one to give praise easily, but I think it's about time to tell you how proud I am of both of you. You both have grown into your places in the world, and I know the company will be safe in your hands when the time comes for me to step back. You're both more than up to the challenge to take up the reigns, there is little left for me to teach you, the rest you'll gain through experience just as I have. Harry, you need to trust that Daphne will be right by your side and support you every step of the way, but you'll need to trust each other, listen to her ideas and opinions, especially if they oppose yours, even if sometimes you don't want to; it was the hardest lesson I had to learn.' He gave them a look that Harry didn't recognise. 'I know, you probably don't agree with me, but I still think that arranging your marriage was the best decision I ever made.'

Harry's chest tightened, and he looked down so as not to meet Cyrus or Daphne's eyes. The best decision - for whom? For the company, no doubt, and probably also for the Potter fortune and for Cyrus. However, had the old fart ever spared a thought of what he might do to them as individuals when he forced them together? Nobody could have foreseen that he and Daphne would learn how to become friends or even like each other. Their marriage could've easily turned into hell on earth, if he hadn't managed to get over Ginny or, even worse, he could have decided to keep her as his mistress, like she had offered on his wedding day.

He cast a look at his wife from under his eyelashes. Cyrus's words also seemed to have got to her; she'd lowered her head and hid her face behind a curtain of hair.

Thank Merlin for his Gryffindor nobility that had prevented him from taking Ginny up on her offer, and allowed him to build a relationship of genuine mutual affection with Daphne. He'd had the misfortune to run into Ginny more than once during his frequent trips to the U.S.A., and each time had confirmed the impression he'd got on that dinner with her two years ago: she was shallow and couldn't hold a candle to Daphne when it came to intellect, education and manners. Each time he and Ginny had run out of topics to talk about within five minutes after they met. Merlin alone knew what he ever saw in her except for a pretty face and a fierce temperament - a temperament he could well do without these days.

Well, if he looked at it from that perspective, Cyrus was most likely right. He probably should be thankful that the man had prevented him from a disastrous marriage. He couldn't have found a better partner for life than Daphne. But he'd be damned if he gave Cyrus the satisfaction to agree with him.

Aloud he said, 'If you say so, Cyrus,' and gave his father-in-law a weak grin.

Daphne's head jerked up at that, and she gave him a look he couldn't decipher. She opened her mouth, but was interrupted by Cyrus, who took his leave.

'I'll see you on Christmas Eve.' He walked over to Daphne to give her a hug and a kiss on the forehead.

She hugged him back. 'Give Mother and Tori my love.'

The telephone on Harry's desk rang, and he picked up the receiver. 'Yes, Lisa?'

'Mr Appleby from Webber Transports. He said you waited for his call,' Lisa said.

'Oh yes, put him through, please.'

A tap on his shoulder made him look up. Cyrus mouthed a silent goodbye to him, and gave him a short wave. He replied in kind, and watched Cyrus leaving the office while he listened for the characteristic cracking sound of a phone call being put through.

'Mr Appleby? Potter here. Thank you for calling back that promptly.'

He concentrated on the phone call, and soon the strange talk with Cyrus and Daphne's reaction faded into the background over the demands of the day.

* * *

It was almost midnight when Harry and Daphne left the taxi that had dropped them back at Grimmauld Place. Harry paid the driver, wrapped his arm around his wife and walked her the few steps to the front stairs of their house, while the taxi drove off.

Daphne let her head sink against his shoulder. 'Merlin, what a boring party!'

Harry grimaced. 'You can say that again.'

It had been one of these Muggle events they were obligated to attend, and a very stiff and boring one on top of that. He'd suffered through it without giving away his boredom, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

They had reached the top of the stairs, and Harry pulled out his wand to open the door.

Daphne stretched and gave him a kiss on the cheek. 'You've been a very good boy tonight. I think that deserves a reward.' She gave him an inviting wink.

The door opened under the tap of Harry's wand. He slipped the wand back into the holster and swept his wife in a tight hug as soon as they were inside of the house. 'Do you have something special in mind?' he asked, his lips close to hers.

She slung her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him. 'Just you wait and see,' she whispered in a husky voice and closed the gap between them.

Now, the night promised to end on a much more exciting note than the party had been. He tightened his grip around his wife and deepened their kiss.

'Master Harry, Master Harry!'

Small fists tugged at his trousers at the height of his knees.

Harry groaned, though not out of pleasure, let go of Daphne, and looked down on Winky who still tugged at his trousers.

'You'd better have a very good reason for this, Winky.'

The small creature wrung her hands and gave him a desperate look from huge, tennis ball sized eyes.

'Winky bes sorry, Master Harry. Winky bes bad house elf for disturbing master and mistress. Winky will-'

'I order you not to punish yourself, Winky.' The response came automatically. Even though he was annoyed with Winky, he'd never tolerate his elf punishing herself.

Instead of an answer, Winky broke out into tears and hid her face behind the seam of her tea towel toga.

Harry startled. Winky was easily upset, however, this kind of behaviour was strange even for her; she was very sensitive and knew not to disturb them when they wanted their privacy.

Daphne realised it the same moment as he did. She crouched in front of Winky, took her by the wrists of her small hands and coaxed her to let go of the tea towel and look at her.

'What has happened, Winky?'

She only got an incomprehensible wail in return. She gathered the small creature in her arms for comfort and looked up at Harry, worry written all over her face.

Winky's outburst stopped as sudden as it had begun. She hiccuped for a last time, then took him and Daphne by the hand and Apparated them away.

Only a split second later they landed in the cheerful kitchen of Grimmauld Place. Another deafening wail greeted them.

An elf lay sprawled on the kitchen floor and banged its head over and over again against the hardwood of the floor. It wore the green tea towel toga of the Greengrass house elves.

Harry's heart plummeted into the deepest pit of his stomach. A ring of steel seemed to wrap around his chest, and he had difficulties breathing.

Daphne stared down on the house elf. All colour drained off her face, she swayed on her high heels, and Harry grabbed her by the arm to steady her.

'What has happened?' she asked. Her voice sounded like that of a stranger.

At the sound of the familiar voice the Greengrass house elf stopped wailing. It scrambled up from the floor, hurtled itself against Daphne, and wrapped its arms around her legs.

It was Poupette, one of the Greengrass house elves that cared for the house near France.

'Master and mistress and Miss Tori didn't come today,' Poupette wailed. 'Poupette can't reach them.' She buried her head against Daphne's legs and sobbed.

House elves always knew how to reach the members of their families. The hair on Harry's arms and the nape of his neck lifted when the meaning of Poupette's words began to sink in. 'You mean, their Portkey never dropped them at the house?'

Poupette didn't lift her head, but nodded vigorously.

Daphne covered her mouth with her hand, unable to hold back the small whimper that escaped her. Her eyes, huge and full of dread, looked up at him.

He put his hand on her shoulder and gave her a comforting squeeze. 'Have you been at _The Rectory?' _he asked the house elf. _'_Maybe Tori had an episode today so they couldn't travel.'

Poupette looked up at him with huge, red-rimmed eyes. 'Poupette bes at the big house first. Matty says master and mistress takes porty key this morning. Poupette ask Matty for help to find master and mistress. Matty can not reach them.'

Harry let go of Daphne and hurried to the fireplace in the adjoining family room. He threw a pinch of Floo Powder into the flames, knelt down and stuck his head into the now green flames.

'Auror Office.'

A few, disconcerting moments his head was spun through the Floo Network, until the face of a bored looking young Auror came into view.

All boredom, however, left his face when Harry reported what had happened, and a grim line appeared around his mouth. 'Please, step back from the fireplace, Mr Potter. A team of Aurors will be with you immediately, and I'll also alert the standby duty of the Portkey Department.'

Harry pulled his head out of the fire and stood up.

Daphne had followed him into the room. Her face was ashen, and she trembled all over her body.

He walked towards her and held her by her upper arms. 'A team of Aurors will be here presently, and they'll also inform the Portkey Department.'

Had she heard him? Her eyes, still full of shock and dread, seemed to stare through him. He guided her to the sofa, coaxed her to sit down, and wrapped a blanket around her.

The flames in the fireplace roared up and turned green. The next moment, two Aurors stepped into the family room. One of them was Ron, and Harry let out a breath of relief.

'What has happened?' Ron asked.

Daphne still was in shock and not capable to talk, so it fell on Harry to tell Ron and his partner the little information they had.

Ron's face became grim during his tale. His eyes flickered to Daphne, and back to Harry, and he let out an imperceptible sigh. 'Do you still believe all these incidents happen by accident?'

He had a point there, but now was not the right moment to discuss that. 'Please, Ron, not now,' he said, and pointedly looked down on Daphne's head leaning against his shoulder.

'Sorry, mate,' Ron said, and got up. 'I'm going to talk to the wizard on duty at the Portkey Department. They'll be able to track down if the Portkey has been used. Probably the coordinates were slightly off and the three have been deposited somewhere else in France and had to wait until they got a Portkey for the next leg of their journey. Tori isn't able to Side-Along-Apparate anymore, is she?'

'Yeah, you're probably right,' Harry said. Did his voice sound as if he believed Ron's explanation? It better had, at least for Daphne's sake. Portkey coordinates _could _be wrong; however, had their family been deposited somewhere else in France, they would have contacted them by now to let them know they were safe: Cyrus as well as Isabella and even Tori knew their way around the Muggle world and would have had no problem reaching them on their cell phones.

Ron put his hand on his shoulder, gave Daphne a short hug and walked towards the Floo. The next moment he was gone in a burst of green flames. His partner, who had talked to the inconsolable elves, left shortly after him.

Harry looked at his wristwatch. It was well past midnight, and he pulled Daphne closer towards him. 'Let's go to bed, darling, it won't help in the least if you stay awake all night long and worry yourself sick.'

Daphne gave no sign that she had heard him, but when he stood up and pulled her with him, she followed him out of the room and towards their bedroom. She went through the motions to get ready for bed as if under the Imperius Curse, and when they finally lay in the darkness, the pattern of her breath indicated that she was still wide awake, though she didn't move at all.

He turned towards her and pulled her in his arms. 'Shh, darling, everything is going to be alright.'

What an idiotic thing to say. Portkey accidents were a rare occurrence, but they _did _happen, and unfortunately almost always were fatal. Daphne knew that as well as he did.

She didn't answer, and lay in his arms as stiff and motionless as a log.

He knew neither of them would sleep that night.

* * *

They rose long before dawn on Christmas Eve, dressed, and took up their silent vigil on the sofa in front of the fireplace in the family room.

Winky brought them tea and a large breakfast spread, however, Daphne refused every dish with a shake of her head, and only accepted a cup of tea.

Harry couldn't blame her; his throat was constricted, and his stomach rolled. There was no way he could keep any kind of food down.

Winky's bat-like ears flopped down, and she looked as if she was about to cry. She vanished the breakfast dishes with a snap of her fingers. 'Winky will bring more tea.'

Harry's cold fingers curled around his mug, and he put his free arm around Daphne's shoulders. 'I wish there was something I could do.'

Daphne sighed. 'You know there isn't. We'll have to wait until we get news from the Aurors or the Portkey Department.' She leaned her head against his shoulder. 'Stay with me, will you?'

'Always.' He dropped a kiss on her head. Her worry and pain tore right into his heart; he'd have given anything to spare her this.

Darkness gave way to the late dawn of a winter's day. Soon after, the Floo flared up.

'Harry? Daphne? Are you already awake?' Ron's head appeared in the green flames.

Daphne almost jumped out of her skin, and then began trembling like a leaf.

Harry gave her a small hug, took the mug with the meanwhile cold tea out of her hand, put it onto the table in front of them, and got up. He kneeled in front of the Floo so that Ron could see him. 'Come through, Ron.'

Ron's head disappeared. A few seconds later he emerged from the fireplace and removed the soot from his Auror robes with a flick of his wand.

Harry motioned with his hand to one of the seats around the coffee table, sat down beside Daphne again and took her hand. Her fingers were ice cold. He looked at his best friend, and and the iron ring around his chest that had appeared last night seemed to tighten. The grim line around Ron's mouth didn't bode well. He needed to be strong for Daphne, so he took a laboured breath and asked the question he didn't want to know the answer to. 'You have news, Ron?'

Ron nodded and squared his shoulders. 'The Portkey Department worked all night to track down the movements of the Portkey your family used, Daphne. So far, they can confirm that the Portkey has been activated at the allotted time and took the preset course. However, shortly before it reached its destination, it veered off and has not touched down yet.'

The room seemed to spin around Harry, and his stomach rolled once again. He put his arm around Daphne. She huddled closer to him, her face even paler than before, if that was possible.

'You mean, our family has been spinning through the void for about twenty-four hours by now?' he asked. His voice sounded strange in his own ears. He cleared his throat. 'Is there a way to force the Portkey to touch down?'

'The specialists from the Portkey Department are working on that. It can be done, but it is a tricky business. The Portkey apparently isn't following a preset course anymore, but jumping around wildly. Knowing where it will be next so that they can target it with a spell is somewhat like Divination, the head of the Portkey Department told me. But they'll keep trying, there's still hope they can save them,' Ron said. His gaze didn't meet their eyes.

Ron was no fool, he knew just like them how slim the chances were that they would be able to get to Cyrus, Isabella and Tori in time. How long could someone being spun through the void last without getting crazy? How long until they would die of dehydration?

A small whimper beside him brought Harry back to the here and now. Daphne had buried her head in his chest; her shoulders shook. He put both his arms around her and rocked her gently. What was he supposed to tell her that would give her hope and comfort?

Ron cleared his throat. 'I'm sorry I have no better news for you. If there's anything we can do … Do you want Hermione and me to stay with you today?'

Daphne raised her head and looked at Ron. Her face was wet with tears; she wiped them away with the back of her hand and shook her head. 'I really appreciate that, Ron, but I think I need some alone time to understand what has happened.'

'Alright, if you need one of us to talk, to vent, or just for a shoulder to cry on, send a Patronus, no matter what time of the day or night.' He got to his feet, patted Daphne's shoulder with his hand, and gave Harry a long, stern look. 'Same goes for you, mate. If you need someone to talk to, tell us, and don't bottle up everything.'

Harry gave his best friend a weak smile. 'Thank you, Ron. I won't.'

The green flames of the Floo flared up and swallowed Ron, then died down and left the room in an oppressed silence. There wasn't anything more to do for them than waiting and hoping, and with each passing minute the chances of any sort of a happy ending dwindled.

Harry and Daphne spent the remainder of Christmas Eve waiting for a miracle that didn't happen. Daphne barely said a word, and stared into the fire all day long as if hypnotising the Floo to bring her the good news she longed for. However, the day passed with anymore news. When they went to bed late that night, she clung to him and cried herself to sleep.

Christmas Day was no different. Ron Flooed early in the morning to let them know there was no news, and then they waited. They still waited on Boxing Day, and the day after. Their friends alternated sitting with them, even Molly and Arthur Weasley came and kept them company during their silent vigil. It was comforting in a way; it was good to know they were not alone. However, both Harry and Daphne breathed a sigh of relief when their visitors left in the evening. The shock of what had happened still had to settle in, and somehow they could cope with it best when it was only the two of them.

This year, they had a bank holiday after Boxing Day. Daphne and Harry still didn't return to work on the twenty-eighth. Harry pulled Lisa aside when she and Justin were about to return home the evening before, and asked her to cancel all of their appointments.

'Of course, Harry; you don't have to ask. Daphne needs you by her side right now,' Lisa said, and gave him a sympathetic hug.

Harry swallowed hard. 'Listen, Lisa, I don't want … this ... to become public knowledge until … we know where they are.' His throat constricted again, and he coughed. 'Tell everyone that Daphne and I have taken a few days off and will be back in the new year. It should be quiet, anyway, around this time of the year.'

'You can count on our discretion, Harry. Would you like me to prepare a press statement, just in case?'

Harry's heart missed a beat, and his eyes stung. How could he think of something like that right now, while they still hoped for a miracle? However, deep inside of him there was the knowledge that it was already too late for Cyrus, Isabella and Tori.

He could almost hear Cyrus' voice on the day they had talked about what-if scenarios for a case like this. _You need to be prepared, Harry, too many families depend on the stability of the company. No matter how much you and Daphne are grieving, you have to put them first._

He covered his face with his hands. 'Oh Merlin, I hate this!' It took a few moments until he had regained his composure. He lowered his hands and gave Lisa a weak smile. 'Thank you, Lisa, I'd appreciate that.'

'Consider it done.' Lisa gave him another hug, and stepped inside of the Floo.

Harry returned to his place beside Daphne on the sofa. She still was as pale as a ghost, with dark rings under her eyes because of lack of sleep. Her sweater hung from her shoulders as if it was made for a bigger person. She'd hardly eaten anything over the last couple of days, and the loss of weight showed.

She leaned against him as soon as he sat down, as if she needed his support to sit upright, and he put his arms around her. They sat like that in silence for a long time.

'Harry?' Daphne raised her head from his shoulder.

He turned his head and looked at her. Her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot from crying, but dry. She bit her lips.

'They're not coming back, are they?' It was a statement, not a question.

Harry tightened his grip around her shoulder. 'I'm afraid not, darling.'

There was nothing more to say. Daphne put her head back on his shoulder, and together they continued waiting for the news they dreaded.

_t.b.c._


	16. Chapter 16

The news was the headline of _The Daily Prophet_, and even some foreign magical newspapers.

**Cyrus Greengrass Killed In Portkey Accident, Along With Wife And Daughter**

Below was a huge picture of Greengrass and his wife, taken at the last Ministry Ball. There also was a blurred picture of the daughter who had died together with them, Astoria. The girl had been kept out of the public eye by the family; rumours said she suffered from a blood curse that ran in the Greengrass family. Well, good riddance to bad blood.

A broad grin spread across his face. Success, at last; three down, two more to go. It had been ridiculously easy; nobody had expected him to strike from this angle. Quiet laughter shook him; he hadn't had an idea, either, until his current girlfriend had been called away from her workstation while he was visiting and fortuitously left the Portkey for the Greengrasses latest travel arrangements unsupervised for a few minutes.

It had been a matter of seconds for him to mess with the target coordinates and the duration of the trip, and his girlfriend had been too trusting to check the Portkey for signs of sabotage after she returned.

Unfortunately, he had been forced to take care of her after that, for obvious security reasons. It wouldn't do if she blabbed to the Aurors about having left him alone with the Greengrass Portkey, when the investigation about their Portkey accident would take place. She had been a great shag, but as dumb as they came. Though, he would miss her.

It was rather unlikely anyone would link her to him, and if Weasley should remember she'd been his date for their Christmas party, he could always claim he'd split up with her immediately after. His reputation for changing his girlfriends like other men changed their underwear would lean credence to that.

His ex was also estranged from her family, so nobody would miss her immediately, and the Muggles would have problems trying to confirm her identity, should her body even show up at the waste disposal site where he had dumped her. Given all his precautions it was unlikely the Aurors would ever even hear about another muggle body.

It was a pity, really, that Potter and his whore didn't travel with the rest of their family. That would have taken care of all his problems at once. His eyes fell on the big photo of the Chosen One and his wife next to the picture of the older Greengrass couple. It had been taken at the same ball; as always, those two radiated wealth, power, and sickeningly sweet happiness.

He doubted they were still wearing those silly smiles on their faces right now. The doll face of the whore surely wouldn't look half as pretty, blotched with tears and eyes red-rimmed from too much crying. Of course Potter, the loving fool he was, would try to comfort her. He almost gagged at the thought.

Well, she wouldn't need Potter's comfort much longer. He was on a roll, luck finally was with him. She and Potter would be next.

_t.b.c._


	17. Chapter 17

Harry looked out the window of their bedroom, and down on to the rain-soaked square, while he tied his black tie. Had already one week passed since Ron had informed them that the bodies of Cyrus, Isabella, and Astoria had been found near a remote wizarding oasis in the Sahara? They had died of dehydration, the healers of St Mungo's who had examined the bodies had told them, but at the same time assured them that they hadn't suffered: the constant spinning of the Portkey would've forced them into unconsciousness long before that.

Had it been a merciful lie? There was no way to tell; for Daphne's sake it was better not to speculate. She seemed to find some comfort in the thought her loved ones hadn't suffered. Apart from that, she was a mess; ever since Poupette brought them the news their family had gone missing she'd hardly slept for more than four hours in a row, and then only out of sheer exhaustion.

He should've been there for her more than he'd been: she'd needed him. But it had been impossible; the huge media circus that had followed the news of Cyrus and Isabella's deaths had put a stop to that.

They had been able to keep the news of the disappearance of their family out of the papers, magical as well as Muggle, until they had been found. After that, things had become crazy. Cyrus and Isabella had been prominent in both worlds, and their sudden and unexpected deaths due to a light plane crash - at least that was the reason they had given the Muggle press - had caused a huge media interest. Daphne still wasn't in any shape for a public appearance, so he had dealt with the press ever since the first statement.

Unfortunately, the interest wasn't limited to the tabloid papers. Cyrus had been the C.E.O. of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products for almost three decades, while he and Daphne as his designated successors had little more than two years of practical experience under their belt. There had been a lot of speculation about the future of the company in the business section of the newspapers.

He had dealt with that, together with Lisa and Fleur, and had at least managed to keep Daphne out of the limelight as long as her grief was still fresh and overwhelming. Although, they still had to make a final decision about the future leadership of the company, and soon; during the last week Daphne had not been in any shape for that. Neither had he; unfortunately, nobody gave a fig. The press had refused to be content with a meagre press statement, so he had stepped up. They had scheduled a press conference at headquarters for the upcoming week to announce their decision about the future leadership of the company; they would need to find the time and space for the overdue talk about that on the weekend.

Soft steps on the carpet behind him made him turn around. Daphne just put on her wristwatch. The long-sleeved black sheath dress hung down from her shoulders like a sack. How much weight had she lost during the horrible ordeal of waiting? Hopefully, today would give her some closure.

'Are you ready?' she asked. Her voice was as lifeless as her dull eyes.

'As ready as I'll ever be.' He walked to their shared walk-in closet and picked the suit jacket from the hanger.

They had a long and trying day ahead; this morning there would be the memorial service for Cyrus, Isabella and Tori at the Muggle church in the village near _The Rectory. _The spectacle was for the sake of the Muggles; there were many Muggle friends, business partners and employees who wanted to make their last farewell. After that, the caskets would be taken to the grounds of _The Rectory,_ where the funeral would take place in private on the Greengrass family cemetery in observance of wizarding tradition.

He slipped on the jacket and a matching black winter coat, and returned to the bedroom. Daphne waited for him, also ready in a black winter coat and a broad-brimmed hat with a small veil on her head that obscured her face from the curious onlookers. He took her arm and guided her out of the house, where a dark limousine was already waiting for them. Cyrus' chauffeur for more than thirty years - a Squib who knew how to move in both worlds - had insisted on driving them today, and to be honest, Harry wasn't arguing.

Thanks to some built-in magical features the drive from London to the small, Kentish village that was the ancestral home of the Greengrass family for at least three centuries only took forty-five minutes instead of the usual hour and a half a Muggle car would have needed. Daphne hardly spoke a word during the ride, but her ice cold fingers clutched his hand as if it were a life line.

They were the last to arrive. The somber peal of a single church bell and a flock of journalists received them when they got out of the car. The rain had stopped, yet dark clouds hung deep in the sky, pushed forward by a strong wind that caused the seams of their winter coats to flap around their knees; a hint of salt on the wind reminded him they were not far away from the sea in this part of Kent. Daphne even had to hold on to her hat with one hand to prevent it from being blown away.

Harry put his arm around Daphne's shoulders and led her into the church, out of reach of the many cameras directed at them.

The fragrance of glasshouse flowers, mixed with the scent of burning beeswax candles, and the mossy odour of old stones assaulted his nose as soon as the heavy, old oak doors closed behind them. Every single seat in the small church seemed taken; a sea of black clad, murmuring mourners greeted them. Almost all heads turned towards them as he led Daphne down the aisle to the front row.

Daphne gave no indication that she noticed the attention they got. Her eyes were glued to the three caskets resting by the steps to the altar; they were almost swallowed by the many flowers that adorned them. She trembled all over her body, and Harry tightened his grip around her shoulders.

They took their places in the front row, between a low-ranking member of the royal family and the current Junior Minister for Business. The other front row seats were taken by prominent business partners, representatives of the charities Isabella had presided over, and executive employees of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products.

The service began soon after they had taken their seats. Pieces of music alternated with the traditional Christian funeral service performed by the priest of the local parish.

After the priest other people stepped up to share their memories of Cyrus, Isabella and Tori: a long-time Muggle business partner honoured Cyrus; he gave a poignant eulogy describing what he called Cyrus' way, and allowed the gathered masses to learn what had taken the man from a young C.E.O. who had taken up the reigns after his father's death to the renowned figurehead of British economy. A well-known and very respected lady of society spoke about Isabella and her passionate engagement in supporting the research of rare diseases, and finally Hermione stepped in front of the microphone and found moving words about Astoria, the Greengrass daughter who always kept in the background because of her frail health, and yet had brought so much sunshine into the lives of anyone she touched.

Harry listened to Hermione, and his throat constricted. Sweet, mischievous Astoria! Memories of the many times she had teased him like the little sister she had become to him flashed through his mind, and he clenched his jaw not to burst out into tears. He'd surely miss her, just like he'd miss Isabella's motherly gentleness.

His eyes flickered to Cyrus' casket. Would he miss him as well? Cyrus had manipulated him the worst way imaginable, and they'd been at loggerheads too many times to count. And yet … Cyrus had always shown him that he was proud of him, and encouraged and challenged him to do his best, not so much in words, but with subtle gestures.

His sight became blurry; the pain in the back of his throat intensified. Who was he fooling? He already missed the old bastard, he missed his trust and his advice, and he missed the sparring with words they had had whenever they met, and he would miss those fleeting looks of affection that Cyrus had for him, the ones that Harry couldn't find it in himself to return.

Another piece of music, then the final blessing, and the service came to an end. The pallbearers took their places at the sides of the caskets - Cyrus and Isabella's were picked from their friends and associates made during all facets of their successful lives. Tori's pallbearers, however, were her close friends from school, tears streaming down their faces, almost inconsolable that the bright and bubbly girl would no longer light up their lives.

With an almost practiced precision they heaved them on their shoulders, and began their slow departure down the aisle. Harry and Daphne followed behind the priest. At the door of the church they paused and watched the caskets being put into the hearses that would drive them to their last destination, while the many members of the international press took photos of the moment from behind the barrier they were forced to stay behind.

Daphne leaned on his arm, a sack of limbs and bones. Her eyes were dry and dull as she watched the caskets of her loved ones being prepared for their last journey. How much longer would she be able to hold on? He put his arm around her waist to support her, and released a silent breath when their car pulled up right behind the hearses.

He helped Daphne into the car and took his seat beside her. As soon as the door closed behind him, she took his hand in an iron grip and didn't let go of it during the short drive to _The Rectory._

The hearses drove on to the Greengrass family cemetery at the other side of the park, beyond the lake. Harry and Daphne, however, left their car in front of the gates to the backyard of the house. The cars with Hermione, Ron, Fleur, Bill, Lisa and Justin pulled up right after them. Their friends had attended the official memorial service to give their support as their closest friends, but also because the three women had worked with Cyrus on a daily base.

They entered the house, changed their Muggle coats for wizarding cloaks and hats, and went into the drawing room where the officiator waited for them.

A few minutes later, Matty popped into the room and tugged the officiator at the sleeves of his robes. It was the same wizard who had married Bill and Fleur, and had presided over Dumbledore's funeral. Since then, Harry had seen the man on many more funerals and weddings, his own wedding included; it seemed as if the wizarding world had nobody else to conduct this kind of service.

The officiator bent down, listened to what Matty whispered into his ears, and straightened.

'It is time.'

He turned towards the door, Harry following him, Daphne on his arm, and their closest friends behind them. The small funeral procession walked out of the backdoor, across the terrace, and down the path that led to the lake. It was almost the same way he had taken with Bill on his wedding day, however, instead of turning to the right and crossing the small bridge that led to the island in the middle of the lake, they continued on the path until they reached a small gate in a wall that bordered the surrounds of the house. Beyond the gate was the family cemetery, where three centuries of Greengrasses rested.

The caskets of Cyrus, Isabella and Tori were already waiting besides their open graves, suspended in the air by a Levitation Charm. The rest of the magical mourning guests had gathered at the opposite side of the graves.

A shiver ran through Daphne at the sight of the caskets, she trembled like a leaf in the wind, and Harry once again put his arm around her shoulders to steady her. This was it, the worst part you had to go through at every funeral: seeing the one you loved become one with the cold earth, and accepting that it was the final goodbye on this plane of existence.

The officiator began his speech about Cyrus, Isabella and Tori. Harry didn't listen; his attention was focussed on Daphne. She looked as if she would faint at any second, so he stepped behind her, enclosing her in his arms, and held her steady.

The voice of the officiator stopped, and Harry startled. He'd been so concerned for Daphne, he hadn't noticed the man being about to conclude the graveside service.

The officiator gave Daphne a small nodd.

Daphne took a deep breath and pulled her wand out of the sleeve of her dress. Now came the hardest task for her: as the only surviving member of the Greengrass family she had to cancel the Levitation Charm placed on the caskets, and had to Levitate them into their final resting place one by one.

Tears pooled in Daphne's eyes. She pointed her wand at Tori's coffin; it shook in her hand, it was a miracle she didn't let it drop. There was no way she'd be able to control the charm.

A single tear rolled down Daphne's cheek. Her mouth formed the words of the incantation, but no word got out, and Tori's casket didn't move one inch.

Subdued whispers flared up among the mourning guests.

Daphne swayed; Harry tightened his grip around her waist with his left hand and put his free hand on her hand that held her wand. 'Let's do this together,' he whispered into her ear.

A jolt seemed go through Daphne's body; she turned her head towards him and gave him a long look through eyes brimming with tears. And yet, for the first time since that horrible night Poupette had come to find them, there was a spark of his Daphne in the depth of her eyes.

'Together,' she whispered back.

His hand tingled where he touched hers, and then became warm. He pushed his own magic towards her wand, his hand steadying and guiding Daphne's, and Tori's casket descended into the grave.

They repeated the process on the caskets of Isabella and Cyrus.

As soon as Cyrus' casket disappeared in the grave, Daphne turned around in his arms and buried her head on his chest. He put both arms around her and stroked her back in soothing circles. When she finally raised her head, her cheeks were wet with tears.

Harry didn't release his grip around her shoulders when they together accepted the condolences of the magical mourning guests at the graveside. It seemed as if the line would never end.

There were Arthur and Molly, and also Percy and George with their wives. Even Charlie had come all the way from Romania to support them.

There also were more members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight than he'd ever cared to see. Daphne had little time for them, either, for that matter. Oh well, some social customs just couldn't be avoided. At least nobody expected him to smile today or be talkative, so he just nodded in response to the offered condolences of Pansy McLaggen-Parkinson, Narcissa Malfoy and others of their ilk, and turned to the next person in the line as soon as possible.

At last, the line came to an end. Harry and Daphne stepped in front of the three open graves for a last time.

Daphne stared down at the caskets of her family; she didn't tremble anymore, and she didn't cry. However, the tension of her body and the strain around her eyes told of a pain so overwhelming it consumed her whole being.

Harry's side tingled where she leaned against him; her pain seeped into him and threatened to overwhelm him as well. He had to get her away from here; she'd have a bout of accidental magic if she continued like this much longer.

He slipped out his wand and conjured three bouquets of cypresses and michaelmas daisies he offered to Daphne.

For the second time today a jolt seemed to go through her. She'd made him read _The Language of Flowers _at the beginning of their marriage, so he wouldn't make a blunder when he had to send flowers to a Pureblood woman. Of course, she now grasped the meaning of the flowers at a first glance: mourning and farewell. The unbearable tension left her body, there was even the ghost of a smile around her lips, and she took the bouquets from him.

Again, he caught a spark in the depth of her eyes, but it was extinguished by her grief almost immediately.

She threw a bouquet in each of the graves, and turned her head to him. 'I think … I'm ready to leave.'

Harry let out the breath he'd been holding, offered her his arm and led her back to the house.

The mourning guests followed them. As it was custom, the elves had prepared refreshments they offered buffet style in the dining room, while the guests mingled in the reception rooms of the ground floor of _The Rectory. _The drawing room, the formal sitting room and the conservatory all had been opened to the guests, and yet the spacious rooms were crowded by the many wizards and witches who had come to pay their respects - or satiate their curiosity.

Soon, the oppressed mood of the graveside service gave way to animated talk. Harry and Daphne moved from one group of guests to the next and thanked them for their attendance. It took some time until they could finally settle down in one of the big sofas of the drawing room, a cup of tea in their hands.

Harry cast a look at his wife. Some colour had returned into her cheeks, even though she was still a far cry from her usual, glowing looks. At least she didn't look like the Grey Lady anymore, a look that had troubled him more than anything. She even listened into a conversation among Hermione, Lisa and Fleur, a faint smile on her lips.

Eventually, the mourning guests bade their goodbyes and left, until only Ron and Hermione stayed with them. Lisa, Justin, Fleur and Bill all had left their children in the care of relatives and were anxious to return home.

Harry let out a deep sigh, leaned back into the sofa, and loosened his tie.

Daphne gave him a small smile. 'You look as if you are in need of something stronger than tea.' She beckoned with her hand for Matty, who cleaned up after the guests, to come closer. 'Matty, get us some whisky. The real Scotch, not that dreadful Firewhisky, please.'

Matty nodded, and a few minutes later she brought a tray with a bottle of single malt and glasses.

Hermione declined, but the other three accepted the glass Matty presented to them.

Silence descended on the four friends while they sipped their drinks and unwound from the strain of the day.

Ron took a deep breath and put his glass on the coffee table in front of him. He leaned forward in his seat, rubbed the palms of his hands, and regarded Harry and Daphne with a long look from under furrowed eyebrows. 'I got the results of the investigation of the Portkey your family used this morning.'

Harry startled and sat upright. Beside him, Daphne also tensed. Ron's words hung in the air.

'I'm sorry to tell you, but the Portkey had been manipulated. It seems … someone … got hands on the Portkey after the coordinates had been set and modified them. My department is still investigating who had possible access to the Portkey. It doesn't help at all that the witch who was tasked with charming the Portkey for your family seems to have disappeared since around Christmas. It only became apparent when she didn't return to work this week after a holiday she took over the christmas period.'

Ron rubbed his face with the palms of his hands and gave Harry a long, hard look. 'Do you still believe I'm fantasising when I tell you Malfoy has hired an assassin to take out those he believes to be responsible for his imprisonment? The fatal attack on your family is the typical MO of a good assassin, Harry: perfidious, ruthless, and hard to nail down to a single person. What worries me even more is the disappearance of the witch from the Portkey department. It bloody looks like someone disposed of a potential witness.'

'Language, Ronald,' Hermione murmured, but it sounded half-hearted.

Harry cast a glance at his wife. How would she take this revelation on top of all she'd been through during the last two weeks?

The faint trace of colour had vanished from her cheeks.

Harry cursed under his breath. Couldn't Ron have waited with his news until Daphne had recuperated somewhat? He covered her hand with his and gave it a light squeeze.

She responded by linking her fingers with his. Her gaze was unfocussed, and she stared ahead, a slight frown between her eyebrows.

Harry let out a breath. This was no grief or shock, this was Daphne's expression when she was pondering a problem; he'd seen it on her face too many times to count. The next moment she'd worry her lips, then brush the hair out of her face and square her shoulders, always a sign she'd come to a decision. A weight seemed to fall from his heart, and a small smile appeared on his lips.

The frown on Daphne's face deepened, and she worried her lips between her teeth.

Nobody in the room spoke a word. Harry's eyes never left Daphne's face.

Daphne took in a deep breath, brushed a stray lock out of her face, squared her shoulders, and gave Ron a level look. 'I think you've got too narrow a focus in your investigation, Ron.'

Harry smiled his first genuine smile since the beginning of their personal tragedy. It seemed his Daphne was digging her way out from under the mountain of grief that had buried her. He put his arm around Daphne's shoulder and hugged her towards him. As always, she melted into his side.

'What do you mean by that?' Ron asked.

Daphne took another breath. 'Look, Ron, I don't deny that Malfoy is a prime suspect. Unfortunately, he's not the only one. My father was a scrupulously honourable man, albeit he had a very special definition of honourability.'

Harry snorted at that. 'You can say that again, darling.'

'Harry and I have been the targets of his special brand of honourability when he blackmailed us to marry. However, I'm sure there are many others who made similar experiences with him and didn't take it as well as Harry and I did.' She pointed with her thumb over her shoulder into the direction of Cyrus' study. 'Father used to employ a private investigator who collected information about simply everyone he had to deal with. I've only a faint idea of how many files about Muggles, wizards and witches are hidden in the cabinets of Father's study, and I really don't want to know what secrets are hidden in them.'

She bent forward, picked up her glass and took a fortifying sip. 'What I mean is, while Malfoy has a motive, there also might be others we don't know about and whose motives might be just as strong or in some cases stronger.' She put her glass back on the table and cuddled into Harry's arm, as if seeking shelter.

Ron pondered her words with a frown on his face, his arms crossed in front of his chest, and his eyes directed at the tips of his shoes. 'You have a point.' He raised his head and looked at Daphne. 'Will you give me access to your father's study as part of the investigation?'

Daphne startled in Harry's arms.

His belly gave an uncomfortable flutter, and he stiffened. He didn't have to look into her face to know Daphne's thoughts. Cyrus had been honourable, yes, but he'd never been squeamish about the means he used to get to an end. Merlin only knew what dirt they'd unearth from Cyrus' filing cabinets. There was no way Daphne would let the Auror Department get their hands on anything that might tarnish Cyrus' reputation. Who was he fooling? There was no way he'd let the Aurors get hands on something that might be potentially harmful for the reputation of the company; too many people depended on that.

He cleared his throat. 'I don't think that's a good idea, Ron. These are very confidential papers. I don't mean any offense, but you know as well as I do that discretion is still a foreign concept to many in the Ministry.'

Daphne nodded to his words.

Ron looked as if someone had taken away his favourite puppy.

Daphne gave him a close lipped smile. 'Look, Ron, I intend to go through Father's papers at some point. However, I'm not yet ready for that. Give me some time to cope and adjust to life without the rest of my family, and I promise I'll hand over to you everything that seems suspicious to me.'

Ron let out an unhappy sigh. 'I'd rather press on with the investigation while our leads are still fresh.' He scratched the back of his neck with one hand and gave a frustrated sigh. 'But I get it! I know this isn't easy, and I can't force you to hand over private papers to me, and no matter how I phrase it, the potential new lead you've just pointed out is too vague for the Wizengamot to grant me a search warrant for Cyrus' study.' He gave Daphne a very frustrated look. 'Fine, have it your way, just please do it as soon as you can bring yourself to face it.'

Hermione and Ron took their leave soon after that. Harry and Daphne escorted them to the front door.

Harry closed the door behind his friends and looked at his wife. 'Are you ready to return home?'

Instead of an answer, she bit on her lips, and her glance flickered down the hallway, into the direction of the park.

He should've known she was not yet ready to return without another visit to the graves of her family. He called for Matty.

The elf appeared with a low _plop. _'Master?'

'Please, bring us our winter coats.'

The elf disappeared, and Daphne got on her tiptoes and gave him a kiss on the cheek. 'Thank you, Harry.'

Not even five minutes later they were on their way through the park. The heavy wind from the morning had lessened, and now the low clouds were dumping their loads on the wintery landscape. Instead of bothering with an umbrella, Harry had conjured a translucent shield around them that kept the rain away.

The early dusk of a winter day was falling when they entered the cemetery. However, there was still enough light for them to see that the graves had been closed. The three fresh mounds of dirt disappeared among a mountain of flowers.

They stood in front of the graves for a long time. Daphne leaned her head on his shoulder, and he put his arm around her. Her distress was palpable, though it seemed to have lessened somewhat, as if she was beginning to be resigned to her loss.

It became dark over Daphne's silent grief, and with the light the little warmth the day had held left and gave way to a numbing cold that seemed to seep into Harry's body. He tightened his grip around her waist and steered her to the gate in the wall. 'Come on, darling, it's about time to go. You'll become sick if you stay in this cold much longer.'

Daphne nodded to his words and allowed him to lead her away, but turned back to the graves of her loved ones at least twice on the short way to the gate. 'You know, I almost wish I could lay down beside them,' she said in a small voice and huddled against him.

How was he supposed to answer that? That she shouldn't say things like that? He cared too much for her to give her such a meaningless platitude in return. Instead, he hugged her closer, and dropped a kiss on her head.

'You know, each time I lost someone it felt as if my heart had been cut out of my body with a dull knife. It hurt like hell, and it hurt like that for a very long time. I doubt the hurt will ever go away completely. But after a while, it became bearable, and I learned to enjoy life again. You'll also get there, but it won't happen overnight; a loss like you suffered takes time to heal. Give yourself that time. You know I'll be right there beside you anytime you need a shoulder to cry on, someone to reminiscence, or just to vent your anger at the injustice of it all. Lean on me as much as you need to, I'm here for you whenever you need.'

She slid one arm around his waist and returned his hug. Once again, she turned her head and looked back into the direction of the family cemetery as if drawn by an invisible string.

'You don't want to leave them, do you?' Harry asked, and looked at Daphne.

They had reached the terrace. Her face was clearly visible in the light that poured onto the terrace from the huge windows of the drawing room, and wet with fresh tears. She bit her lips and shook her head.

Harry stopped, turned around to her and took her in his arms. 'Then we're going to stay here for tonight.' He dropped another kiss on her head and led her into the far to quiet house.

_t.b.c._


	18. Chapter 18

On Sunday morning, they were still at _The Rectory. _They'd taken the guest suite that they habitually used whenever they didn't want to Apparate back to Grimmauld Place after a late night with their family.

Daphne picked up her last mug of tea from the breakfast table and walked into the family room, where she plopped down on to the huge lounge sofa. She put both hands around the mug and looked around in the familiar room. Everything was as it had always been: shelves with the favourite books and board games of the family, a stack of popular magazines on the low coffee table, and everywhere magical and Muggle pictures of members of the family over the last seven decades.

It was easy to pretend nothing had happened; it was as if Tori was up in her room, working on her embroidery, while Father had already left for work, and Mother was busy somewhere in the house.

However, she'd never been one for make believe, and she wouldn't start now, either.

Her heart was heavy in her chest. She'd lost her family, was she also going to lose Harry? Father's death before Harry turned thirty had mixed the cards a new; technically, the executorship of his grandfather's will had passed to her as the next head of House Greengrass. And what would Father's death mean for their marriage? Harry had never wanted to marry her, he had been blackmailed into that by Father. With Father out of the picture, there was no reason for him to stay with her, especially not in the light of her inability to conceive. Sure, he cared for her, but was that enough? He owed it to his house to find a woman who could give him children -.

Harry's silhouette darkened the door between the breakfast room and the family room, and interrupted her morose thoughts. He carried his own mug of tea in his hand and came over to sit beside her. He put the mug on the coffee table in front of him, turned towards her, cupped her cheek in his hand and wiped away a tear with the pad of his thumb.

Damned, she hadn't realised she was crying - again. She had to get a grip on herself, they had to make a couple of important decisions.

Harry's next words confirmed her thoughts. 'We need to talk; we have to come to a decision about the future leadership of the company. You and I hold all the shares jointly, so it's up to us to make that decision.'

She reached up and took his hand in hers. 'There isn't much to talk, Harry. Father always made it clear he wanted you to be his successor, so you're going to be the next C.E.O. of Crystal Fairy.'

A deep sigh escaped Harry's mouth. He pulled away his hand, propped his elbows on his knees, and rubbed his face with the palms of his hands. 'I know, but am I the right man for the job?' he asked, his face still covered with his hands.

Dull ache spread through Daphne's chest. There he was again, little Harry from the cupboard who was conditioned by his horrible relatives to think he'd never amount to much. He'd learned to overcome his insecurities in the last years, however, the loss of their family had shaken him badly, it was not surprising all of his insecurities would surface again right now.

She sat upright, put her mug on the coffee table, and turned towards him. She reached up, pulled his hands away from his face, and gave him a long, hard stare. 'Listen to me, Harry Potter, and listen good: Father groomed you for this position ever since we married. He was an expert in knowing people, and he was convinced you're the best choice to take up the reigns after him. Remember what he told us the last time we saw him? You are much better suited for this position than you give yourself credit for. Stop doubting yourself; I know you won't disappoint neither Father's memory nor me.'

Had she got through to him? She bit her lips, her eyes searching his, and waited for his reaction with bated breath.

His eyes had never left hers while she spoke. When she finished her heartfelt speech, silence reigned for several seconds, but slowly a hesitant smile appeared on his lips and turned into that adorable lopsided grin of his. He linked his fingers with hers. 'Thank you for your vote of confidence, darling. However, I have one condition.'

'And that is?' As if she wouldn't do anything he asked of her.

'I will agree to being the C.E.O. of Crystal Fairy, if you are willing to be my second in command. We're going to lead the company together, Daphne, I can't do it without you.'

'Of course you can count on me, Harry.' She squeezed his hands, then let go and shifted her position on the sofa, so there was now a gap between them.

'There's more we have to talk about.'

His eyebrows rose up a notch.

'We have to talk about us, Harry.'

He creased his eyebrows. 'Us? What's there to talk about?'

She didn't respond at once. Her hand fidgeted with the hem of her sweat shirt, and she avoided looking into his eyes. How was she supposed to begin an awkward conversation she'd rather not have?

Something like sudden understanding washed over his features. His face paled; he swallowed hard and backed away from her. 'You want to leave me, don't you? After all, your father blackmailed you into this marriage. He isn't anymore, so there's now no more reason for you to stay with me and pretend you're happy with me.'

Her head jerked around to him at that, and she gaped at him. It took her some moments to find her voice again.

'What? No, that's not what I meant, Harry! It's just the other way round. You never wanted to marry me. Also … I know how much you long for children, but as things are I doubt you'll ever get them from me. I'm not holding you to this marriage if you want out of it.'

Now it was his turn to gape at her. Some colour returned into his cheeks. 'You know, I thought you were the smarter one of us,' he finally said.

Her heart skipped a beat. Was he implying - 'What do you mean, Harry?'

'I made my decision to stay with you seven years ago, when you first offered me divorce. It hasn't changed since then.'

Had she heard him right? Her heart jumped into her throat. 'You don't want to leave me?' The words came out as a croak.

Harry gave her his devastating smile. 'Not as long as you don't ask me to. Don't be daft, darling, why should I walk away from the best thing that ever happened to me?'

'But … what about children?'

'I don't care if we ever have children. And who says we won't? Just look at what happened to my grandparents: my father came along when they had given up all hope of children of their own.' He scooted closer and put his arm around her shoulder. 'Maybe we should look into a blood adoption if we've both turned thirty and still don't have children. I don't want to be too old to be a father; after everything I've heard about my grandparents and the way they raised my father he's been a spoilt little prince. I understand where they came from, but I don't want to do that to our child.'

She leaned her head against his shoulder. Her heart jumped a happy dance in her chest, and a broad smile slipped on her face. He didn't want to leave her!

Though, he still didn't say he loved her.

Was his decision a carefully calculated business decision, because they both owned the company, and more bad news about the owners would be disastrous such a short time after Father's death? Or was it owed to the fact the Weaselette wasn't available? The news of her fourth marriage had been all over the tabloid papers last autumn.

Harry was still seeing her whenever he was in New York; the bitch took a twisted delight out of sending her photos a couple of weeks after his visits - anonymously, of course. Nothing in that photos was anything incriminating; they'd all been taken in public places, quite a lot of them even at events Harry couldn't avoid to attend.

Well, she'd decided to trust Harry until he'd prove her wrong. Merlin knew what a manipulative bitch the Weaselette was: she had learned that special lesson years ago on that first Christmas in the kitchen of _The Burrow._

She adjusted herself in Harry's arm. Warmth spread through her when he put his other arm around her, held her tight, and dropped a kiss into her hair, like he'd done so many times before.

No, as long as the bitch stayed on her side of the Atlantic, she wouldn't put too much stock in her little games.

She raised her head and looked at her husband. Harry leaned forward and closed the gap between them.

She enjoyed the familiar pressure of his lips on hers, and tangled her hand in his messy locks. However, a single small seed of doubt remained, buried deep in her soul.

_t.b.c._

**End of Part Two**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the angst ride I put you through, but it couldn't be helped. This part was all about losses they had to suffer and how they dealt with it as a couple. After all, I hinted at the events in the prologue.
> 
> In Part Three I'll finally pick up with the timeline of the prologue, and you'll find out how Ginny's return to England will influence Harry and Daphne's relationship.
> 
> You all have no idea how much this story benefits from Shygui's editing, his keen eye for plotholes and the many insightful questions he asks about the plot and the development of the characters. So, please, a huge round of applause for Shygui. He deserves more than that for all the work he puts into my story. There's a reason why I named him as co-author for the prologue and the first part. Unfortunately, AO3 has changed that feature and I can't name him for this part.


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